


Viper

by Joy_Stick



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky is pretty important, Characters tagged are characters mentioned or who show up, Other, Story follows Ophelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_Stick/pseuds/Joy_Stick
Summary: “I’m going to kill you regardless of the compliments you shower me with, Klaus.” Her voice came back to her and Bauer hung his head a little nodding even as she drew closer.“See, after you left that’s what I learnt. You weren’t to be admired in you headstrong nature, Fräulein. You were to be feared. Your unpredictability cost us much. Cost us everything. And now we hide in the shadows…” His hand moved uneasily on the briefcase, like he was nervous.“Some would say being feared is a good thing.” Ophelia replied and Bauer chuckled.“You can kill as many of us as you like. But there is only one of you and when you cut one head off tw-”“-Two more take its place. I know… That is why I brought a really big knife.”





	1. The Woman With Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my newest piece! A few things before we get started, this is a short story/novella/whatever that is already completed! I will be posting once a week on a Friday, and if you haven't picked up yet, its my take on how Ophelia Sarkissian would fit into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. There will be six chapters all up, but only five parts as the last part is split in two and forms a coherent story/plot. The other parts will have quite large time jumps between them.
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with Viper/Ophelia/Madame Hydra thats okay because this story sort of retcons a lot of her comic plots. And if you are familiar with her and you're like "thats not what happened", Yeah, i know. But I had this idea and I think personally it fits in better with the MCU than most of her comic plots which never make much sense. Thank you for reading!

**Part One**  
  
_January 12th, 1978_  
  
The dark haired man looked upon the almost hidden base with scrutiny. To any others eyes it would have been undetectable, but not only had he been given its location, he had been trained to specifically see things others did not, find their weaknesses, exploit them.  
There would be no outward defences, the base had been operating on a skeleton crew for more than 10 years now. It was time for them to leave HYDRA’s services.  
  
The man lifted the goggles from his eyes to see clearly through the thick snow, and began trudging a path toward where he could see the entrance door, hidden beneath an overhang of rock. It reminded him of Siberia. He pushed the thought aside and reach out a gloved hand, finger punching in the code he had received from his handler, the numbers already committed to memory and he waited not five seconds before the metal slab creaked and dragged itself open. It had obviously not been released for many years. The scientists and personnel within would have been given supplies enough for decades and would have had no need to leave. The man palmed his rifle quickly.  
Eight targets. No resistance would be worth mentioning.  
He was almost shocked when the emergency alarm sounded, bathing the hallway he was in in a slow flashing red light. They must have had an automatic alarm on the door. He didn’t quicken his pace, comfortable that whatever they wanted to do against him would be futile.  
He found the first two inhabitants as he rounded a corner and they came at him quickly, one with a gun and the other with a rod of some kind. He shot them both down, firing two more bullets each into their heads as he stepped over their bodies. Passing an open doorway, he heard a soft whimper and turned his head, looking inside. His eyes easily found a lab coat clad woman. She cried out upon seeing him, but she wasn’t afraid for much longer. He shot her impassively, without paying much mind to her pleading, the blood splattering her white coat and leaving a mark on the wall behind her.  
  
Five targets left.  
  
The man continued down the hall until he came upon a room that seemed to be a control centre of sorts, once filled with people. now he only saw two, crouching behind their desks. He didn’t even need to move from his spot at the doorway to put them down, simply shooting straight through the flimsy wooden desk-ware until he’d fired enough that neither could have possibly survived.  
Three lef-  
A dull, painful thud to the side of his head sent the man reeling for a moment. Another man stood there with a large metal object of some sort. He was short, but solid with a suit that looked like he’d worn in every day for the past 30 years.  
The man simply gazed upon him for a moment, silently applauding his gall. It wouldn’t last long. The dark haired man raised his gun and fired twice. One shot to the chest, the other to his head when he fell back. Again, he stepped over the man's body, turning toward the last hallway left to travel.  
  
Two left.  
  
From somewhere up ahead he could hear quiet talking echoing off the walls. Though it sounded one sided it was accompanied by a familiar whirring. That intrigued the man somewhat and his pace picked up ever so slightly. He came upon a lab, a large window along the hall wall in between him and the door. Immediately he spotted a woman, another scientist, one hand on a keyboard and the other with gun in hand as she began blindly firing at him. He ducked low, below the glass as it shattered around him. He counted her bullets as she fired off, waiting.  
_One_  
_Two_  
_Three_  
_Four_  
_Five._  
“ _Come on, come on, wake up!_ ” The woman was yelling at the computer in front of her, and looking frantically between the screen and the cryo pod next to it. The man had brief memory of his own pod flash in his mind for a moment. It almost stopped him but he pressed on, near silently jumping the now broken window, glass crushing under his feet. The woman turned and gasped just as he reached her position, and she fired again. She hit him point blank in the right shoulder and the man hissed in pain reeling back for a moment. The woman seemed shocked herself, and he took the opening to knock the gun from her hand, stepping forward quickly and grabbing her by the throat. There were a few seconds as he held the woman up against the wall with his left hand that his anger took over, and he knew he should have ended her already but something primal in him wanted to make her pay for the pain pulsating in his shoulder.  
Too preoccupied with squeezing the life out of the woman to pay much mind to the opening pod, for the second time in five minutes the man was knocked completely aside - only this time the force was powerful, and it threw him across the room and into the wall. With an annoyed growl he looked up, the red flashing of the alarm tinting everything sporadically.  
Across from him was another woman, now standing protectively in front of the scientist who was on her knees gasping for air.  
The newcomer was tall, standing almost to a similar stature as him. She wore nothing but simple black underclothes allowing him to see her muscular body, and though her face was partially obscured by unkempt dark hair, her face was pale and sunken in. More importantly, this woman looked very very familiar. The man’s forehead creased in not only anger but confusion, and he pushed himself out of the indent he’d made in the wall. He had had enough of this.  
  
“ _What are you doing?! Kill him_!” The scientist on the floor spluttered and coughed as she screamed and the tall woman’s eyes didn’t leave him and she suddenly rushed him. The man was almost shocked at the force of her blows but he caught on, catching them eventually and parrying. The dark haired man felt familiarity in her movements against his, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they had done this before. Perhaps not quite in the same situation, but they had fought. His eyes caught hers for only a moment as they were pushed apart, the woman rolling under one of his blows and standing rapidly. Her eyes were a deep green, almost too green to be real and his brain sparked, a sting of pain hitting him behind his eyes.  
  
  
_1943_  
_Gloved hands grasped at a cliff ledge, struggling to keep hold. The rock underneath would break any moment._  
_“Buck, we have to help...!” The blonde man next to him began racing forward, out of breath still._  
_“Are you insane? She’s been trying to kill us!” He heard his own voice say, but he too moved forward. The blonde man seemed to be looking for something, a rope, perhaps a hook. He took to the cliff, staring down at the woman with eyes green like the uniform she wore. For once they were filled with fear and desperation as she clung to life. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy invade his disgust and rolling his eyes he laid down on the edge, hands reach down and grasping her wrists tightly._  
_“Hold on, we’ll pull you up.” His voice spoke to her, the reassurance the same he’d give to a child or civilian and part of him was shocked at how easily she trusted him, grabbing onto his arms tightly. She nodded. The blonde appeared by his side at the edge and looked at them, their wrists locked together._  
_“You got her? I’ll pull you up.” He felt hands at his middle, and the easy tugging pressure of someone unnaturally strong as not only he, but the woman with green eyes was pulled up and over the cliff edge._  
_The rock splintered as they made it to the flat surface and fell, as if highlighting how close they’d come to not making it. He moved himself away from the rising woman as the blonde pulled him to his feet. The tension was insurmountable as the trio stared at one another in the setting sun and he could see now in this light, her black hair had a sheen of green to it also. Loud voices from the forest nearby alerting the two men to danger. The woman with green eyes finally looked away from them, into the forest and then back._  
_“Leave. Today is not your day to die, Captain.” She spoke firmly, and he found himself looking back to his blonde companion who nodded sternly in thanks, leading the way past her in the opposite direction of the voices._  
_“Or yours.” He heard himself say lightly. Their eyes met as he passed her and he found himself mesmerised by deep shade of green, so bright and unnatural._  
_He’d wondered vaguely as they’d trekked back to camp, what they had done to her._

  
The memory swept over him like a wave, simultaneously feeling like a lifetime as the event passed before his mind’s eye. It was only seconds however, and the woman cocked her head in an almost bird-like manner, before kicking him in hard in the stomach, sending him crashing into the cryo pod now behind him, the device cracking and sparking loudly.  
  
The woman with green eyes looked around for a moment, her mind coming back to her slowly now as the man seemed to be staying down. The flashing red light and its blaring alarm registered, as did the scientist, slowly getting to her feet and scrambling away from the cryo-pod.  
“ _Kill him, now! Do it!_ ” The woman blinked, eyes turning curiously on the one yelling at her.  
Why was the Soldier here? Why was he trying to kill her? Why was the Doctor trying to command her to kill him?  
They hadn’t wiped her yet, she realised, blankly, vaguely and she cocked her head, not totally sure what that meant but certain it was somewhat good. She found herself confused, unsure and her mind began tearing through all the variable situations in which the events before her could take place and then she glared, her eyebrows creasing deeply as she settled on one conclusion.  
The people who did this to her, the people who would wake her, tell her what to do and where to go, who to kill, were done with her.  
That made her angry.  
The woman looked down at the waking man, so much like herself. He too was blind in his trust of their controllers. He too obeyed, submitted, conformed. He too was forced to.  
She knew him well she realised, she’d trained him and now that they had him they didn't need her.  
“ _What are you waiting for?! Kill him, he’s-_ ” The scientist’s mouth ran dry as the green eyed woman’s head snapped to her. The other woman’s face turned pale as she stepped toward her, watching the scientist with dark eyes as she bent down, and took the gun from the floor. It was as if the smaller woman was frozen in fear and her mouth moved silently in protest as the gun was handed to her. The woman took it, hands shaking as the woman manipulated her hands, placing her own finger on the trigger and then directing the gun into her mouth, barrel cold against the gummy roof. The scientist just followed as directed, eyes wide.  
“ _Show yourself mercy. He will not._ ” She spoke finally, in the same tongue the other woman had used at her. The words were foreign, but familiar on her lips and she nodded down toward where the man was pushing himself from the broken glass, a growl in his throat.  
  
The green eyed woman ran, the dull pain in her feet from broken glass simply an afterthought as she raced from the room. A gunshot and a loud crash followed her as she leapt quickly over the body of a suited man. He was familiar, but her brain felt no remorse for him and she kept moving, her hair sticking to her neck and face as she moved quickly. She moved around two more bodies in the entrance hall and her heart beat wildly in her chest as the light of day outside shone through, almost blinding her as she crashed through the door.  
  
The snow was cold and falling fast as she sped through the thin forest. There weren’t many trees, nowhere she could hide, and she knew she would simply have to rely on distance between her and the man.  
A gunshot rang out, echoing loudly through the forest and the woman stopped, stumbled, and fell to the ground on her knees, skidding a bit. It was only as she watched the slow drip of blood from her shoulder that she realised she’d been hit, the pain only tickling the back of her mind. She felt numb and she knew - If she hadn’t shook him from her tail by now, she never would. Her fingers reached out, lazily swiping at the blood on the snow. The familiar crunch of boots approached her, and she watched as the black feet rounded on her, stopping directly in front.  
The woman looked up. Blue eyes stared back at her from over a covered face, and she followed his movements as he pulled a gun from his high holster, loaded it and cocked it as it turned back on her. All she could do was stare. She couldn’t remember much, but she knew that being on this side of a loaded gun was unfamiliar to her. She couldn’t help but stare up at the Soldier, his eyes expressionless. The moment felt heavier the longer it went on, her green meeting his blue but it ended when she felt a sting of pain behind her eyes, sharp like a skewer being inserted into her eye socket.  
  
  
_1944_  
_“The patient is prepped and ready. Hold him down.” She moved forward as she was told, her hands coming around the man’s biceps as he came to._  
_“W-what are you doing? Where am I? L-let me go!” He was cut off by a sharp slap to his face. She couldn’t help but think that in time he would learn to keep questions to himself. She was standing over him from behind and as he lulled back onto the headrest his blue eyes caught hers, pain and confusion swimming in their depths and he leaned upward ever so slightly._  
_“Sarkissian?” His voice was weak, but certain and the name almost made her grip loosen. Who was that? Was that her? Did he know her? She clenched her jaw and held him tighter as the scientists moved in, wrapping his legs in the familiar leather straps, his wrists following shortly after._  
_“Madame Hydra?! Ophelia Sarki–?!” His voice was cut off into a muffle as a rubber mouthpiece was shoved between his teeth and eyes went wide. She moved to the side as her services were no longer needed, another lab-coated man moved the machine into place. She barely kept from wincing at even the sight of it as it was brought to life, the metal hands coming to either side of his head. They worked to hold him in place but sparked sporadically as they warmed up. She hadn’t even noticed her own movement until her back hit the concrete wall. She watched in silence, having never seen this scene from the outside before as the machine was brought to life. The man’s muffled screams filled the room, wild with abandon. He struggled only for the first five minutes, before laying limp in the chair. She watched as his chest rose and fell heavily after each more round of the machines torture, until finally the Doctor held up his hand._  
_“Put him in his cell. We will try again tomorrow.” The orderlies unstrapped the man and dragged him by the upper arms from the room. The Doctor looked up at her when the others had filtered out. He had been marking something off on his clipboard, as if he had forgotten she was still in the room and he frowned._  
_“What was it he called you again?” He looked at her over his glasses. She almost took the bait, almost, excitedly regurgitated the words the man had spoken._  
_“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening to him.” She spoke calmly, her voice revealing no emotion and the short, squat man blinked at her for a moment._  
_“Of course.” He said after a moment, scribbling something else down on the board._  
_“Will he be like me?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking and the Doctor did not reply for many minutes, finishing his task and moving to the desk, placing the board down. He removed his lab coat, and cleaned his glasses with the edge._  
_“No. He will not.” He finally replied, taking a stack of pages from the table and moving to the door._  
_“He will be better.” She waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps down the hall before she moved forward. She gave a wide berth to the machine and stepped quietly toward the Doctor’s desk. There were many things on the table, many she didn’t, nor cared to understand, pages with rows and rows of equations, but she stopped upon a clean, brand new manila file. She raised her head to look only once around the room and to its open door before flipping it open, eyes taking in and recording all of the information on the crisp white pages._

  
The sting left as soon as it came and the woman found herself still watching his face, his eyes, the same ones from the memory she’d just had searching her face, as if knowing her mind had been elsewhere for a moment. The pain began flooding her system then, and she winced, hand moving up to paw at her shoulder wet with blood the moment she did. It was cold, the snow falling heavier now.  
“ _Are you going to kill me Sergeant, or watch me bleed out?_ ” She spoke in the tongue most familiar to her, and his eyes sparked with recognition. The previous detached look in his eyes changed, and he pressed the gun into her forehead, the cool metal making her realise how warm her face was. It felt nice. She couldn’t help but lean into it.  
“ _Sergeant_?” Her eyes were closed as she spoke. She was losing blood quickly. The cool was removed from her head and by the time she opened her eyes again, he was gone, leaving her alone in the snow.  
The blood dripped through her fingers onto the white ground and she gasped loudly, choking out a cry she couldn’t control.


	2. The Man On The Roof

Part Two

  


_September, 1983_

  
  


“If you keep poking it, one day it will poke back.” Ophelia jumped, hand ripping away from her scarred shoulder as if she’d been caught in the cookie jar.  
“It itches.” She replied blankly, looking up at the reflection of the older man in the bathroom mirror, pulling up the shoulder of her cardigan as she did so. Alexei shrugged.  
“It always itches. You were a soldier. Ignore it. Focus on other things.” He told her gruffly, turning from her and Ophelia watched him until he rounded the corner. She breathed deeply and turned on her heel, following him and standing stock still and ready for instruction. Alexei was ex-military, former Soviet Special Forces in the Second World War and had a way about him that commanded no-nonsense. Ophelia liked him, she was perhaps fonder of him than she should have been given her circumstances, and at 75 years old the veteran had obtained her trust implicitly.  
He had been undertaking the 20 hour drive from Balasanov to St. Petersburg when Ophelia had ran out in front of him onto the road. Despite their initial language barrier, Ophelia’s blood-loss clouded mind taking her in and out of German, Russian and Hungarian, the man had packed her into his backseat, poured vodka into her bullet wound and suggested he drive her to a hospital. Ophelia had nearly jumped out of his car at the mention of that.

 

_1978_

“No! No hospital!” The woman in his backseat’s eyes were wide and she looked very much like an injured, cornered animal. Alexei watched her in his rear view tensely, his own distrust of strangers evident but even he couldn’t leave a wounded person, let alone a woman in the middle of the road. He had met and fought many people in his life, but he knew a trained, experienced soldier when he saw one. She hadn’t even seemed to be affected by the freezing cold outside, in spite of being dressed in nothing but underthings. Perhaps it was the adrenaline.  
_“Well I am no medic! I cannot help you.” He told her exasperatedly, but roughly. The woman was eyeing the door handle as if she were about to leap for it any second. He sighed heavily then. She was a soldier, like him. He couldn’t leave her.  
_ “You just wait until we pass the next town. I will do what I can.”

_What Alexei could do turned out to be cleaning and patching up her shoulder with a store-bought sewing kit, the contents of the little blue bag being upturned onto his car floor. He had soaked the needle and the thread in more vodka before offering the bottle to the woman steeling herself for the ‘surgery’. She had looked at him dumbly for a moment before taking the bottle gingerly, and lifting it to her lips. He watched her drink nearly half before she handed it back. That had at least made him chuckle and he raised it to her in cheers.  
_ _“Za zdorov'ye…” He said almost sarcastically, downing a single swig as the woman raised a single eyebrow._

_He’d stitched up the front and back of her shoulder with pink thread, his own little joke but it had turned red quickly and that wiped the smile off his inner child. When the wound seemed to be stable and the woman somewhat clean, he’d thrown her a pair of pants, shoes and a sweater he’d also bought at the store. They stood in the empty parking lot of the establishment and as the woman eyed him, making sure she could see him at all times, she dressed. Her line of sight was inevitably broken however, when she was to put the sweater on. In that moment Alexei snapped, the pistol he knew she’d seen on his hip in his hands and cocked at her.  
_ _"Now you will tell me who you are and why you are injured as such.” Old habits die hard he supposed. The woman was frozen, almost comically so with the sweater half over her head, only her eyes and forehead visible and she waited a minute before slowly popping the rest of her face through, eyeing him. She was alert, but no more so than she had been earlier. Her behaviour was entirely too strange for him from the get-go and he didn’t like it one bit. It reminded him of the strange men and women he’d seen from afar during The War, those Special Soldiers you weren’t to speak to, or acknowledge in anyway._

Some of his comrades had said they had their emotions beat out of them. He watched her eyes rake over his handgun.  
“You aren’t going to shoot me.” Her voice when she spoke, pure Russian this time, was raspy and deep. It reverberated when she talked, like she had gravel sitting in her throat. Alexei adjusted his grip on the gun as if to show her how serious he was. But it felt half hearted, even to him.  
“You wouldn’t have helped me, bought me clothes, stitched me up if you were going to shoot me.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, the woman knew her own words were a bluff. She’d been waiting on the man to turn on her ever since he’d heaved her into the back of his car. She was used to the promise of comfort, only for pain in return. This was expected, certain even. But then he lowered his gun with a sigh and she suddenly realised how little control of the situation she had. What was he doing?! He turned from her, moving around to his drivers seat, placing his gun back in its holster.  
_“I will drive you only as far as St Petersburg.” Alexei had thought he’d been ready and willing to nail her right in the head. But something about the way she spoke, the look in her eyes as if she was disappointed in him… He wasn’t sure, but he put his gun away, the split decision to just trust her not weighing too heavy on his mind. He had planned on using the gun on himself when he got into St Petersburg, the city’s death rate being high enough that it wouldn’t be noticed as much. Just another dead man among thousands. If she killed him on his way there, even better. He had waited for the woman to cautiously step into the passenger seat, moving her body stiffly as she tried not to jostle her wound. She eyed him suspiciously for over an hour before setting her sights on the road.  
_ “Sleep. You’re still injured.”

_She only eyed him once more before closing her eyes._

 

Alexei had never been able to fully shake Ophelia in the past seven years. And he owed her now. She saved his life. Upon arrival in St Petersburg he had cemented in his mind that this woman was, somehow government or military connected. She was quiet, spoke at least three different languages and absolutely leaked danger. Everytime he moved she was watching him, her hawk like gaze scrutinizing him for risk. He had seen many things as part of Special Forces and though he had resolved to not ask questions about her if she didn’t ask any about him, he just _knew_. Then her memory began going. It seemed from moment to moment her demeanour would change entirely. She would go from spending days awake looking out their hotel room’s window with a gun in her hand, to cowering in the corner of the bathroom, rambling in a language he did not understand. She would emerge hours later, eyes darting around the room. She checked and checked again for bugs, she wouldn’t let him leave her sight. Alexei found himself adopting her as his own to look after. War had done much to many of them. If he needed to stay alive to help this woman, whoever she was, he would. Her behaviour began to even out a month later, when they had obtained a one room apartment. She refused to tell him anymore about herself than the snippets she revealed in her early mad ranting, but she had given him a name. Her name.

“Ophelia.” She snapped out of her daze and zeroed in on him holding out a green reusable bag, her mind automatically assessing it for danger before easing off. It was just a bag.  
“I need onions, carrots and a slab of meat.”  
“Any particular cut?” Ophelia asked, taking the bag in her hand, relieved for the ‘orders’. She already knew the old soldier preferred pork over beef. He was faced away from her, cutting potatoes by the stove and he seemed to think for a moment.  
“Shoulder.” He told her and Ophelia nodded, moving to the door, sliding her shoes on neatly.  
“Will be back soon. Don’t shoot yourself while I’m gone.” She called back to him. Ophelia didn’t need to turn around to know he’d raised his finger at her.

 

It had taken Ophelia years to settle into a routine and yet she still couldn’t sleep three nights in a row. When she did sleep the memories came, pain and torture vivid. Sometimes it happened to her, other times she was inflicting it on others. Ophelia would always wake up from these dreams screaming. She would see faces and names and had flashes of a man she knew now as Captain America. At first she was overwhelmed with a hatred for him. The mere _mention_ of his name made her ball her fist, but as time went on she found the feeling faded.  
She tried to let go of whatever had tethered them together.

Ophelia kept her eyes down as she exited the dingy apartment building, the local farmers market only a block away. Time had moved on in her absence, thirty-eight years having passed since her earliest distinguishable memory. Seven of those years she had lived freely, but as Alexei had pointed out to her, whatever the people who had controlled her had done to her, it had stopped her aging process (She knew them as HYDRA,  but upon brief research, had decided to not share that information with her saviour). She looked not a day older than when she had first woken up in the lab.

As Ophelia rounded the corner she slowed her walking pace, blending in with the already busy crowd around her. The market was predictably full for a Sunday, everyone was seeking their fresh grocery supplies. Still, her heart beat spiked and the hand that wasn’t clutching the shopping bag reached into her pocket, fingers cradling the large knife she never left home without. She never was comfortable in large open spaces, her eyes always scanning the roofs of the buildings surrounding her, scanning the crowd for hidden danger. But in her experiences so far, she’d been the only real danger present at any given time. The market was set out in a courtyard between an apartment building and a tall carpark, and Ophelia found herself shifting uneasily even as her eyes searched the open levels of the cement building for a fourth time. Her stomach churned as she finally tore her gaze from the structure to source the ingredients Alexei had asked her for.

Her ears picked up quickly on the sound of a knife hitting wood and Ophelia breathed out heavily once and began making her way to the butcher’s stall. She knew this man vaguely. He had a shop nearby, but would temporarily set up at the market on a Sunday for more business.  
“Ah! Friend! It has been some time, what can I get for you?” The large man who stood with a cleaver in his hand grinned at her in a friendly manner as he saw her come near. Ophelia had never learned his name, nor had she given him hers, but she appreciated him remembering her nonetheless.  
“Shoulder cut of pork, please.” Her voice was deep, never having lost it's gravelly tone, but she spoke politely and the man nodded jovially, grabbing at a slab of raw meat hanging from a hook above his head. Ophelia stood back and watched with some admiration for the way he handled his knife, eyes following as he sliced the meat easily.  
She felt a prick of pain behind her eyes and sucked in a breath, willing the memory away but as always, it came anyway, her eyes still fixated on the bloody raw meat.

 

_“Again! You will be_ **_better_ ** _!” On the last word, she lashed out with her knife, the man before her barely jumping back in time at her outburst. But he moved too late. Her blade cut him across his chest, stopped by nothing as he had removed his shirt at an earlier time. Blood seeped from the wound and the man simply looked down it, seemingly shocked, but unbothered by the pain. She could_ **_at leas_ ** t _be pleased with his progress in that regard. The cut was deep, she could tell even from her slight distance, and she took a step back even further. She waited to see if he would call for assistance, her own eyes flickering to the sidelines of their training pit, to his handler. Technically she was not supposed to actually damage The Asset. Although that never stopped_ **_them_ ** _from subjecting him to various tortures in their mission to erase all humanity from him. But she was frustrated. She knew he could be better than he was currently exhibiting, and she found herself increasingly angered by the quiet nonchalance he gave the training time she had with him. It was almost arrogance._

_However, he didn’t call for Medical, even as the blood continued to drip, instead he flipped the knife in his own hand, re-adjusting his grip with flair. He squared his shoulders and stared back up at her, deep steel grey meeting vibrant green. She saw a new determination in him this time._

_“Show me again.”_

 

Ophelia blinked at the paper package in front of her face, almost swatting it away as her mind came back to her. She continued to blink until her eyes landed on the butcher, staring at her with concern written on his face.  
“Daydream too long here and you will have your things stolen right from your hands!” He warned her as she apologised, pulling a paper note from her pocket and handing it to him. He took it and exchanged it for her few coins change, delivering them gently into her waiting hand. Ophelia gathered herself mentally as she stuffed the paper-wrapped parcel into the green bag as the butcher began dealing with another customer.

The market smelled like fish and apples and dirt and the vague lingering odour of blood.

She could see the people milling about, a woman with red hair inspecting a sack of rice.

She could hear knives hitting chopping boards with ‘clacks’, and sellers calling out their specials. A little girl begging her mother for sweets.

She palmed the coins in her hand, feeling the rough texture and flipping them, thumb brushing over the familiar two headed eagle pattern.

Ophelia’s heart didn’t stop it's rapid beating, but the white at the edges of her vision receded and she took several slow, deep breaths as she turned herself around. She reassessed her surroundings, eyes once again moving to the tops of the buildings above, to the carpark, cataloguing each level one by one until she felt some normalcy return to her senses.  
Finally, she forced her feet to move forward. If she really needed she could go home, tell Alexei what she’d seen, that the market had been too overwhelming. But she couldn’t.

No, it had been months since her last episode, since she’d fallen out of her mind again and the old soldier was cooking that nights stew as a celebration of that. As she mechanically moved toward the stand that had boxes of vegetables stacked high, Ophelia reached her hand in her pocket, depositing the coins. Her hand grazed her blade, shorter and less curved than the one she’d seen in her memory, but large and no less dangerous in her hands. She felt the edge, almost tenderly, before pressing her index finger against it. Even the slightest of pressure sent a ripple of pain through her and she pulled her hand from her pants, almost guiltily and pressed the digit to her tongue.  
Alexei _hated_ when Ophelia hurt herself. But it was the one thing that brought her back from the brink, from the dark corners of her mind. He’d made her promise to stop after he’d discovered the burn scars on the backs of her hands at the end of winter, when she had no reason to wear gloves any longer. But she couldn’t help it. She’d do anything that man asked of her without question, but he didn’t need to know about this. The blood was warm and metallic, and the fact Ophelia found it both familiar and comforting would have distressed others, but to her it brought solace.  
With nearly no words passed between her or the disinterested shop keep, she purchased several carrots and an onion placing them alongside the packed meat in the green bag. The sun was beginning to set, but the markets were busy as ever and would remain so into the night. Ophelia began a slow trek back to the other side of the courtyard, hoping to give her finger more time to stop it's bleeding before she got home. It was an easily explainable wound, accidental even, but she knew Alexei would never believe her if she told him she’d handled her knife wrong. He’d seen her wield it literally in her sleep.

The setting sun hit something metal, causing a flash out of the corner of her eye and in the deepness of her thoughts, Ophelia almost passed it off as a car in the carpark. But it had come from the left, not the right and her head spun back at breakneck speed, body stock-still and rigid in the centre of the crowd as her eyes squinted, surveying the top of the apartment building with explicit attention. She didn’t even budge when an annoyed man pushed passed her, the local grabbing his own shoulder as he caught hers surprised by the solidness of the slight woman. But Ophelia wasn’t paying attention to him.

There was no reason she should possibly see the sun to catch something like that. There were no large metallic radiators on any of the balconies, no washing lines big enough. Her stomach pulled downwards in a sickening motion and she finally forced herself to move, manoeuvring quickly through the crowds, criss-crossing toward the buildings entrance, eyes never leaving the top.

And then she saw him.

A man on the roof.

Ophelia couldn’t see him in any detail, but it didn’t matter. Every nerve in her body, every instinct she had was screaming at her and she felt entirely numb as her hand reached out, ripping the door to the building open with an unneeded amount of strength.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ophelia recalled knowledge of basic building layouts. It seemed entirely trivial and based on the memories she did have she couldn’t see why it made any sense for her to know, but she didn’t complain, finding the unmarked stairwell immediately. She climbed the stairs swiftly, then by twos, then by threes, practically leaping up the flights. She hadn’t noticed that she’d drawn her knife, and she certainly didn’t notice the gentle smack of her grocery bag against her leg. Her breath, for once was even and Ophelia counted the levels as she went, the large numbers painted in fading white on the derelict cement walls until finally her eyes caught sight of the words ‘roof’ and an arrow pointed up the next flight.  
The dark haired woman steeled herself as she pressed her hands flat against the door, her knife clanging quietly. Looking up at the door mechanism, and at the crash bar across its front, Ophelia easily pressed the bar inward, the lock clicking, but she waited, not pushing further.

She waited longer, and she could feel her heartbeat thumping in her hands against the cool metal of the door. Finally, she pushed forward opening the door only a crack and peeking out. If she were correct in her sense of direction as she’d climbed the stairs, the alcove in which the door was located in should be safe the view of whoever was on the roof, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Her stomach continued to flip flop around as she eyed the barren slit of roof visible to her. Ophelia slipped through silently, jamming her shopping bag under the door as a makeshift stop, noting only distantly that Alexei would be disappointed in her bruising vegetables.

Absently Ophelia spun the knife in her hand, readying herself. She put her back to the little roofing alcove, leaning out only slightly to get her bearings properly. As soon as she did, she ducked back out of sight, her heart jumping to her throat.  
There was the man, masked and dressed in all black, except for a large bright sleeve on his left arm. If she hadn’t seen the sniper rifle in his hands she would have given more thought to the strange sleeve but as it were she found herself more taken by the gun.  
Who was he?  
What was he doing?  
Who was he here to kill?  
The questions filled her mind with panic, rising up and threatening to boil out and over before something in her snapped and her mind cleared. She felt heavy, like when she’d come out of her memory earlier but this time something was different. She had focus, a goal and she spun her knife again.  
Isolate him from the weapon, subdue, question, eliminate. Simple.

Ophelia edged around the alcove, a million more questions entering her mind as she looked for the man only to find him gone, the gun still set on its tripod as if he’d never left. There was a familiar low mechanical whirring from her left and Ophelia pounced backwards as a fist flew toward her head, and she immediately rolled, continuing her movement as a foot kicked out for her.  
Well, at least she had him isolated from his weapon.  
The dark haired woman, was on her feet standing again faster than the man realised where she was and she slashed out with her knife, but he was quick too, blocking it with the brightly sleeved arm. They seemed to lock movements for a moment and as she stared at her knife, blade having been turned flat against the man’s wrist in defense it dawned on her.

It wasn’t a sleeve, it was his arm. A metal arm.

The panels clicked and whirred as Ophelia pressed back against his strength and the man seemed to look up at her, but she couldn’t tell because his face was masked, a pair of goggles obscuring his eyes. Ophelia ducked and spun her leg out, attempting to trip him up but he dodged and she swiped again with her blade, this time catching him on the thigh.  
Her brain was screaming something at her but it was like she couldn’t hear it, like there was something on the tip of her tongue she wanted to say, but before she could give it more thought the man lunged forward, producing a knife of his own from his chest panel as he took his turn to swipe and Ophelia only just rolled to the side.  
She didn’t know this attacker, who he was or where he was from, she barely even knew who she was at the best of times, but she did know one thing.

Knives were _her_ forte.

Ophelia kept herself from smirking as she used her own like a shield, blocking his attack and flicking her wrist to the side, locking his elbow at an angle with the movement. The small T shaped handle of her weapon hooked around his almost naturally and she yanked, the blade flinging from his hand and to the ground several meters away and she took her chance, kicking him hard in the stomach, and watched as he too flew back. He hit the ground and rolled, still moving back until he used the metal hand attached to the metal arm to stop himself, skidding to a halt. Ophelia rose to her full height, watching as he got to his feet. She didn’t have to know who he was to see he was now reconsidering their confrontation, stalking her movements. She would _not_ go down easy.  
“Who are you?” She called, the man still watching her through his mask. It was so familiar and as that thought hit her so did another.  
She’d seen it before.

Ophelia schooled her face, keeping it from showing her realisation as she raked through her memories, trying to figure out where she had seen this mask before. All the memories she’d recovered involved many people, strange scientists, Captain America, the blue eyed man from the forest.

She paused.

The blue eyed man from the forest… His mask, the one that had covered the lower half of his face. It was eerily similar to the one in front of her, though not exactly the same. Was that where she’d seen it before? Ophelia had no more time to consider it, as he charged her again, throwing all his force behind a punch she dodged, blocking blows as he changed his tactics, going on full offensive. She watched his annoyance rise as she met him blow for blow, and Ophelia found an opening in his anger fuelled barrage, kicking out one of his feet. He was forced to take a knee, and she thrust her knife hard, down into his thigh. The man seemed to make some kind of muffled sound behind his mask but before he could do much else, Ophelia leapt forward, grabbing him by the face and swinging around to his back, she pulled him down to the ground in a tight grapple her arms dangerously around his neck and her legs wrapping around his waist, controlling his movement. For a moment the man struggled with her, gloved hand and metal hand alike pulling at her arms and hands as she finally managed to rip the mask away from his face.  
The man underneath was gasping as her grip tightened by the second, and she at last got to take in his face, upside down.  
The man from her memories, the man from the forest. The Soldier. _Sergeant Barnes_ .  
“Do you remember me?! In the forest! You let me live!”  
Ophelia didn’t have time to say anything more, he’d pulled the knife from his leg and thrust upwards, plunging directly in her shoulder and twisting. The dark haired woman was forced to release him and rolled backwards immediately, gasping as she ripped the blade from her arm angrily. He was definitely stalking her movements this time, watching her closely as she threw the knife away with force, hopefully removing it from the fight altogether. His gaze followed the metal almost curiously and she had to push down the panic rising in her throat at just _seeing_ him again.  
“Do you remember me?!” She called once again but he just continued staring, blue eyes studying her intently.  
“Sergeant _Barnes_ !” Ophelia wasn’t sure why she felt the need to speak with this man considering he was the reason she was now bleeding heavily from her shoulder, the opposite side to where _he’d_ shot her last time.  
“ _Don’t_ call me that.” When he spoke there was a vicious edge to his words, like he was angry at her for even speaking them, but it was subdued too, he didn’t yell, like her, the words barely leaving his mouth despite the certainty behind them.  
“Do you remember the forest? You let me live!” They were circling each other now, slow, calculated.  
“ _Stop_ . _Speaking_.” He ground out, lunging for her again and this time Ophelia wasn’t as prepared. She jumped back but he caught her jaw, and she tumbled, lashing out as he straddled her, another hit to the side of her face, this one landing squarely and it made her head spin. Her vision was black around the edges and fuzzy and she found her head too heavy to move, gaze staring off to the side. The weight on top of her moved then, grunting loudly, angrily and she watched as he stepped around her, reaching for the knife on the ground nearby. Ophelia tried to push up to get to her feet but her vision was swimming and the orange and reds of the low sun weren’t helping. The blue eyed man, Sergeant James Barnes, walked back to her grabbing her arm and yanking it above her head. With a grunt of effort he sunk the blade hilt-deep into her hand, and through the ground. Ophelia grit her teeth, but refused to yell out.

She had had worse. Instead, she kicked her legs up over her head, catching him in the jaw. He reeled back but didn’t move far and Ophelia’s mounting injuries as well as the loss of blood were beginning to creep on her mind, the black in her vision expanding further. She lost it for a moment when The Soldier hit her again. She felt as though all her other senses were aware besides her vision and she groaned. She heard his heavy footsteps moving away from her, and then quiet for a time.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a gunshot rang out nearby and Ophelia’s whole body tensed in reaction, but she found she couldn’t even force herself to move. The footsteps came close again as her eyes began to clear, just a little, and she watched thick black boots step over her. She turned her head, blinking rapidly as the man crouched over her, leaning low.

His eyes bored into her, but he wasn’t making eye contact, she vaguely noted in the back of her mind. It was as if he were committing her features to memory, studying and examining her. After a moment he finally met her eyes and for the first time in seven years Ophelia saw the man from that very first memory, the one who’d given her her name, the one who was terrified as she held him down to be wiped into a clean slate. But then that man was gone, replaced by something colder, something harsher and he reached up, gripping his knife by the hilt and ripping it from her hand. Ophelia’s vision blurred again with the pain, but she watched him stand, helpless as he disappeared down the stairwell.  


Ophelia cursed loudly, freely before rolling to the side, and then slowly to her feet, careful not to lean on her shoulder or hand.  
Distant sirens told her she had three minutes to clear the rooftop.  
She sighed. Alexei was going to kill her if the blood loss didn’t.

  
  


~

  
  


The man sat silently after giving his report of the mission, his handler and another man, suited and wearing thick rimmed glasses speaking quietly to one another in a language he knew, but didn’t dare to listen in on. The man with the glasses turned back to him then, and he looked up expectantly.  
“You say this woman was strong enough to fight you off?” His accent was clearly American, making him stand out from most of the Eastern European voices the man heard daily.  
“She stopped the arm.” He told him and the man’s nose crinkled, looking back at the handler for a moment.  
“And she knew you?” His heart rate subconsciously rose, a part of his brain was smirking smugly, telling him he knew he shouldn’t have shared what she’d said. The fact he’d let _anyone_ survive an encounter with him would be seen as a failure, punishable. He nodded.  
“She said I let her live. She called me Sergeant Barnes.” His voice was broken and dry and he felt a spark of pain hit him between the eyes.  


“Be quiet!” The green eyed woman, his trainer slapped her hand over his mouth. His jaw shut immediately on command, knowing that she did hold some form of rank over him.  
“Don’t you dare ever say those words again.” Her voice was so rough it almost sounded put on to his ears and he frowned.  
_“But I remember y-”_ Be quiet!” Her words were punctuated with a slap and she looked around. He’d pulled her into a recess of the hall. This would be his only chance to speak to her privately before she delivered him back to the handler. His face stung but he just turned to look back at her. She stepped in close, too close for him to be comfortable with but he rarely was given any comforts these days, and so he just locked her gaze.  
_“If you remember_ **_anything_ ** , you keep it to your goddamn self.” She hissed and he watched her expression. For the first time he saw fear behind her eyes. He knew they took her to The Machine too. He’d been present sometimes.  
"You don’t tell anyone, not a soul. Certainly not me.” He frowned at that. Why not her? Almost as if she could hear his unasked question she continued, speaking in a low tone.  
_"How long do you think it's been since they took you to The Machine, hmn?” He thought, but couldn’t put a finger on it. He’d been awake for weeks now, months even maybe.  
_ “Yesterday.” Her statement startled him and he reeled back. Surely not!? He’d have-

_No._

_He wouldn’t have known._

_“You called out my name when they injected you with...that stuff… You_ **_shouldn’t_ ** have known that.” He watched her face, clearly worried, but also with anger behind her expression. He’d endangered her mind as well as his own. It had been work to convince Zola that she did not recognise the name Ophelia.  
_“Don’t you ever speak about those things. Not ever. You keep it to yourself. I will not and cannot protect you, do you understand? Do you understand me?” It took him a moment to realise she’d switched language halfway through speaking. From Russian to Hungarian. It sounded natural and without accent on her, unlike her Russian or her English.  
_ _He nodded, slowly, beginning to realise that she knew much more than she ever let on. All this time he had considered her to be somewhat above him, part of HYDRA’s system of people who just wanted to hurt him, mould him. But he realised in that moment, she was_ **_just_ ** like him. A tool. An Asset. She knew that they’d be played off one another should they ever be suspected of keeping secrets. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tortured him before. She gave him one final, significant look.

_“Keep it to yourself, Barnes.”_

 

The stinging in his face brought him back, and he realised he’d been slapped, this time not in a memory and he looked up at the American man who was watching him, concern behind his eyes, but not for the man. He stood up to his full height, having been leaning forward.  
“Wipe him. Turn it up, all the way. I know that look.” He spoke to the handler, who signalled for the scientists in the room to step forward. Barnes gave little resistance as he was pushed back in the chair, a rubber mouthpiece shoved ungracefully between his teeth and he bit down on it as The Machine was moved into position around his head.

The American man turned to his handler.  
“He let her _live._ Do you know what that means for us?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“ _She_ is out there and now she knows we are too.” The machine began whirring and the blue eyed man struggled to continue listening.  
“Wipe him completely. And then the next possible chance you get, he kills her. Paints the walls of wherever the fuck she is with her blood. I want her gone and I want it messy. I want it painful, I want it near-on torturous.”  He turned to the man then, looking him dead in the eye.  
“You get that?” All he could do was nod. As the man with glasses left and The Machine began getting louder the blue eyed man braced himself, repeating the name she’d called him over and over in his mind.

_Sergeant Barnes._

_Sergeant Barnes._

_Sergeant Barnes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my angel editor Tiff <3  
> I'm so sorry for making you look at my bullshit spelling errors rip


	3. Redheads and Poison

Part Three

_April, 1993_

 

Ophelia ground her teeth together, the Russian winter bothering even her enhanced body and she moved her finger from the trigger of her gun, stretching the digits so they wouldn’t be locked up when she actually needed to use them. And she would need to use them. The dark haired woman kept her eye to the scope the whole time, peering through it expectantly as she brought her hand back to curl around the trigger.  
Ten years.  
Ten more years had passed, but this time they’d been more pivotal. Ten years ago Ophelia had fought the blue eyed man, Sergeant James Barnes, on that rooftop in St Petersburg. Six years and four months ago he’d returned. Ophelia woke to find him standing over her bed, she never slept heavily, if at all so the fact he’d snuck in on her scared her. They’d fought, extensively, the apartment had been damn near destroyed when they were done and this time, it was Ophelia who let _him_ live.  
Even after she saw what he’d done to Alexei, the wall in the old man’s room was splashed with blood, messy and the body itself something from one of her nightmares.  
She’d beaten the Soldier half near to death, his blue eyes staring up at her when he’d finally been unable to return to his feet. But she’d stopped, unable to finish it when his voice, raspy and weak had commanded her to. She couldn’t, he was so much like her.

_That_ was the reason Alexei had saved her in the first place, because he’d seen himself in her and Ophelia couldn’t, not now that the man was dead, betray his memory like that. She’d released the Soldier, trying to reign in her own emotions, pacing around the kitchen. She would take him away from HYDRA, help him. But then he’d cocked his gun at her and she knew he wouldn’t stop. She’d had ten years to remember, to learn. He was still a tool. Still the Asset. She’d knocked him unconscious and left him there.  
Ophelia had run. She ran from Russia to Western Europe, to America and back again. And she had began working. She had submerged herself in the intelligence community, found people and made them talk, or paid them to talk. She did favours for favours or information. She got her list of active HYDRA officials, and went head first into the drudgery.  
Ophelia would destroy HYDRA, destroy _anyone_ who had anything to do in Alexei’s murder, if it were the last thing she ever did. If she died doing it, she’d die knowing she brought some good to the world at least. HYDRA were scum and the more she became immersed in learning about them, the more she hated them. She had a mission now.

Movement in her periphery made her pause and brought her back to the present. Ophelia squinted, watching as a young redheaded woman dressed in a business suit walked through the doors, lifting a card that granted her access. Ophelia frowned. It was 2am in the morning, what the hell was a young woman, let alone one she’d never seen enter or exit this building before, doing here? The dark haired woman pursed her lips.

Something wasn’t right.

  
They knew she was here.

“Fucking hell.” She pulled herself back over the balcony edge, bringing her sniper rifle with her, and hid behind the frosted glass.  
They knew.  
With another curse, Ophelia packed down the stand that had been helping her balance, dismantling the gun and climbing to her feet. Her gloved hands pulled the door open and she moved inside the apartment, removing bullets from the chamber and tossing the gun parts into the blazing fireplace. It wouldn’t totally destroy the evidence but it would do enough. With footsteps quieter than any mouse she approached the man tied up on the floor, pulling out her handgun and slapping him awake with it.  
“Hey, hey!” The gagged man’s eyes shot open and he immediately squirmed away from her, but made no noise. He had learned better in their time together.  
“You sneaky fucker, you told someone didn’t you?” The man’s eyes widened even more and he shook his head rapidly. She knew a liars tell when she saw one, and this one’s was the shuffling of feet, a habit he couldn’t even control while tied up. Ophelia scrunched her nose at the former sleeper agent. He was never meant to see combat, simply be a part of her target’s network of information brokers. She didn’t care.  
Her gloved hands moved to a pocket on her tactical belt, pulling out a long cylindrical device, sighing as she began screwing it onto the end of her handgun.  
“You know, I was going to kill you honourably. Let you at least have a weapon or a head start. But I’ve decided you don’t deserve it, _patkány_.” The end of the silencer fit nicely against the curve of his eyeball and she didn’t hesitate at all before pulling the trigger.

“Shit. I forgot about the white couches...” Ophelia spoke to herself as she frowned at the mess that had spurted out the back of her former captive’s head and nastied the couch she’d been somewhat fond of. She holstered her weapon easily and moved to the front door. This had just become a whole lot harder than it had needed to be.

 

Ophelia kept to the shadows as she moved across the street. No one had a chance of spotting her and she ducked around through to the maintenance entrance, using the keycard she’d stolen much earlier in the week to push it open and slip inside.  
They knew she was there, which ultimately made her job harder, but nowhere near impossible. She’d yet to meet someone she hadn’t beat in combat eventually. Even if they made the mistake of not killing her, she’d hunt them down and put it right. _That_ wouldn’t be tolerated. Ophelia hummed silently, in her own head as she moved through the lower corridors of the building. It wasn’t pretty down there, all cement walls and dripping pipes, the cleaning staff regularly dodging broken steam pipes. Above them on the upper floors, the building was immaculate; marble flooring, pristine white furnishings. It was an apt metaphor for how the powerful lived off the subjugation of others, The CEO of this company currently in the process of acquiring an island for his child’s 16th birthday, while the head of the custodial department could not afford to give all three of her children breakfast every morning. It made Ophelia sick.  
But it wasn’t why she was here.  
No, she was here because this company, an accounting firm, was being run from the shadows by HYDRA. It’s current Chief Financial Officer, Klaus Bauer, had been part of the tail end of  
intelligence officers trained by HYDRA in the 1930’s and 40’s. Ophelia could see his face clearly in her mind, his voice in her ears. She had known him well.   
  
  
_September, 1945_

_The war was over. Lieutenant General Schmidt was lost, most likely dead, and HYDRA was in disarray. Madame Hydra squeezed a gloved hand tightly at her side as she watched the HYDRA officials across from her in the back of the airship. The Allied forces had found their base and they’d been forced to abandon it, her prize, her mission Captain America had been with Schmidt on the Valkyrie. Hopefully the bastard was dead too. If not, they’d surely hear about it soon enough._

_Bauer beckoned her over with a quick gesture. His face was worried but he held a softness in his eyes that should not have been there for all he had done in this war._

_“Gnädige Frau… I know you as you are, commander of these forces, but the men here… They will resent your position as Schmidt’s right hand… We must come with a plan to solidify your power…” He spoke to her in Hungarian, apparently her mother tongue. It was a language she alone used on the base, when privacy was needed from listening ears and Klaus Bauer being one of her most loyal men had learnt it too, though his affections were entirely misplaced. The Madame didn’t speak at first. She thought intently about the truth of her role._

_Ophelia Sarkissian had been an orphan, though she remembered little of that time. She was inducted into a school for girls in Germany. Eight classes, twelve girls to a class. But instead of regular schooling, the girls were taught espionage, trickery, hand to hand combat and the art of assassination. They were all vying for one position, and in the end only the most determined, only the most ruthless would be The Viper._  
_Ninety-Six became one and that one was Ophelia. But her role quickly changed. The Viper programme had been funded and watched over by HYDRA, and when they realised war was on the horizon in Europe, they required the services of a completely loyal spy. They had wiped her memory. Or at least, they thought they had. Ophelia had realised quickly into her further training that every few weeks she would begin remembering things previously forgotten. While she only remembered a maximum of several months, the memories she began to accumulate added to several years. She kept the information to herself. They had not perfected the memory wiping process and in her own way it was a test to see if they would figure it out._  
_They never did._  
_Except for Johann Schmidt. Almost seven years after her initiation into HYDRA Ophelia met with the Lieutenant General of their forces, and not only had he been thoroughly impressed with her skill, he was impressed with her mental fortitude. He made her his unofficial second in command. Much of what they did was unofficial, much like the mission he had given her in 1942.  
Schmidt was at the end of his rope with Captain America. He had been slowly targeting each of HYDRA’s bases across Europe and with enhanced powers, no one had been able to stop him. Schmidt had come up with a plan however and Ophelia followed his orders exactly._

  
_She had been tied down to a lab table, Doctor Zola adjusting all sorts of things before finally he had moved to her side. A tray next to him held several strange needles._  
_“This may hurt… a lot.” He began injecting her, but Ophelia stayed silent. She stayed silent as she was subjected to radiation and stayed silent as her body convulsed and jerked under the restraints until finally she lay still, eyesight going black and body wet with sweat and exhaustion._  
_Schmidt had visited her a day later, she was still tied to the table he had somewhat fondly wiped her brow with a kerchief from his own pocket, a tenderness in his touch and affection in his eye that she was completely unfamiliar with._  
_“What are the results, Doctor?” He continued to look over her seemingly unchanged form as Zola began fumbling that since they had killed Erskine, they could not perfect the serum as requested, but that he had done his best. She would not be plagued by the same condition that Johann was._  
_“Her hair…”_  
_“It is slightly discoloured… from the radiation I believe. If cut, it should return to normal sir.”_  
_“No need… she must blend in. Not appear as a prisoner.” Schmidt stood back then._  
_“You came here as a snake, a Viper. You leave as more than this, you will leave as Madame Hydra. Break from these confines.” Ophelia had watched and listened and did as she was told, however futile it may have seemed to her tired mind. In the days since the procedure she had felt weaker than she ever had in her life, life she could not lift even a finger and thought that she may have died there. But it had receded and with the command of her General, she tensed and with what she could of her body, moved against the metal constraints. They broke almost too easily and the newly christened Madame Hydra looked upon herself in mild awe._  
_“Madame Hydra, you alone are now fit to destroy the Allied puppet known as Captain America. You will be unrestricted and unconfined in this mission.” Ophelia sat up, eyes trained on Schmidt who stepped closer, a gloved hand caressing the edge of her face. He seemed to be looking past her even as his eyes followed the lines and contours of her face.  
“You will do what you must and bring his head to me on a platter.”_

_The Madame looked again around the truck, especially at the commanders she knew despised her. They would not let her get away from this unscathed. They would punish her. She thought about her failure, the one mission she had been given and the one mission she had repeatedly failed to complete. That was her purpose, and now it was over.  
She would accept the death they had surely planned for her. Without Schmidt, without Captain America, she had no more to live for. _

_She did not answer Bauer._  


Ophelia watched the lights on the elevator panel spark up each time they hit a floor. She knew there would be extra security in the building that night and any anomaly would be cause for panic and would make her mission just that much harder. Unfortunately for her, the maintenance elevator she was in only went to the ground floor, opening out onto a large marble lobby that would give her no place to hide, no shadows to cling to. But she had already devised her plan. With a grace and silence someone of her height and size rarely possessed, she reached out, easily stretching to tear down the elevators emergency escape panel on the roof. Unstrapping her rifle from her back, Ophelia hung it by it's strap from the level she’d just opened the hatch with. With little to no effort the dark haired woman pulled herself through the hole in the ceiling, reaching back through and taking her gun, quietly closing the hatch. No one would ever know she had been there. As her ride came to a stop on the first floor, she looked around the inside of the elevator shaft and began to regain her surroundings. She was still facing east which meant the wiring to her left would take her up further. Casting her gaze toward the empty blackness above, the spy cocked her head, hearing the echo of the chains moving. They should have been quieter than this for 2am, but she supposed when they knew they were expecting company, there’d be more patrols. Directing a cursory glance at the metal cables next to her and where the first floor elevator should have been but was not, Ophelia decided she’d pay mind to that problem when it arose. Reaching out with gloved hands, the dark haired woman quickly pulled the black face covering she’d had hanging around her neck over her mouth, and began climbing the cables like a rope.

She attempted to keep clanging to a minimum as she quickly rose the levels, her arms pulling her with ease higher. One of the most important things Ophelia had come to know from her various adventures into HYDRA’s information pools and the morally ambiguous act of torturing several people was that she had for some reason been given a similar serum to that of the Captain America experiment. Her physical form had always been strong, but she’d come to realise that that she had so far been near-invisible. If it weren’t her strength, her miraculously fast healing came to her aid, giving her the fortitude to survive multiple bullet wounds, blood loss and the occasionally returned torture.  
Ophelia counted the doors, and quickly reached the top floor of the building, climbing slightly higher than she needed. In a slow, practised motion she tightened her legs around the cable and lowered her upper body so she hung upside down to face the closed metal doors. Her rifle dangled in front her and she tucked it under an arm before reaching out, fingers finding the grooves in the smooth metal.  
She braced herself and with a substantial amount of strength pried the doors apart.

“ _What the fuck?!_ ” Ophelia cursed mentally for not having waited to listen at the doors first as she looked upon two heavily armoured security guards, their hands already fumbling for their guns. She wanted to avoid the immediate attention gunfire would bring her and swung forwards grabbing the one who’d spoken by the collar, dragging him into the shaft and dropping him. Just as the second man finally raised his weapon Ophelia grabbed the cable between her legs and unfurled from her hanging position, kicking the gun from his hand as she swung and landed on the cool marble floor. The man looked at her with poorly masked horror in his eyes and reached for his radio. Ophelia pursed her lips behind her mask and reached for his hand, stopping him as he just looked at her in terror.  
“I  _would prefer if you did not._ ” She spoke in Russian and the man found himself only able to nod, his eyes following her movements. Using the butt of her gun, Ophelia easily knocked the man out.  
She had no problems killing those who got in her way, but she also liked to give reasonable doubt to those just doing their jobs. There was nothing to suggest _he_ was HYDRA. She stepped over his body, looking around the hallway she’d exited into with suspicion. Top floor and only two lone men at the elevator? Klaus’ office was on the other side of the floor a whole office full of cubicles and hallways between them, and unless there were more men just standing and waiting for her around the corner, Ophelia felt the situation entirely off. It didn’t sit well with her, she couldn’t _hear_ any movement. She adjusted her grip on her gun and moved quietly forward, pressing her back to the far wall as she approached the corner and listening in for movement. Deadly silence.

Oh they definitely knew she was there.

Looking down the hall that lead toward Bauer’s office and a large room set with cubicles, Ophelia crouched down as she approached the sets of desks and their thin plastic walls. Why anyone would want to spend their days in one of these astounded her. She moved expertly through the maze of desks, stopping only when she heard a click. For a moment her brain scrambled, expecting a grenade but she stopped.  
It was several bays away from her and upon hearing it again, realised it sounded distinctly like that of a pen.  
_Click_.  
Ophelia pursed her lips, eyes catching on a desk mirror across from her. Convenient. She reached out slowly, turning the mirror at the correct angle so it faced the walkway where she could hear the clicking. Instead she caught something else. The window in the wall of Bauer’s office was pushed slightly open, the blinds pulled apart revealing a pair of eyes, accessing the office space. Ophelia frowned. Perhaps she was wrong, if whoever was in that office was being this careless and brazen, maybe they didn’t know she was there. The dark haired woman frowned. Sometimes she really hated espionage, and her temptation to just walk right into the office and shoot the man in the face was sounding more appealing by the minute. The eyes disappeared behind the blinds again just as someone stepped into the reflection of her mirror.  
_Oh.  
_ Ophelia hadn’t even heard them and she moved to her feet, standing tall above both the cubicles and the newcomer in the room. It was a woman, no, _the_ woman, the one with red hair who had made Ophelia change her plans in the first place. She was no longer dressed in business wear, no, she wore a black tactical suit, different from Ophelia’s in several ways. The redhead’s outfit for one, looked almost uniform, it's sleek lines cutting a figure rather attractive. Ophelia’s tactical suit was also slimline, but it was made up from several parts of things she’d collected in the past years, several armoured plates strapped to her legs and chest, a strange looking bracer on her right wrist. The redhead clicked the pen in her hand.

“ _I grow tired of waiting for your games, Snake_ .” The woman spoke in Russian, and although the words alone were aggressive, there was a monotony in her voice that almost gave Ophelia pause.  
“ _Apologies, have we met before?_ ” The dark haired woman’s question wasn’t genuine, but the use of ‘snake’ didn't go past her. She’d been using the codename Viper for a while now, a callback to her original role, but really the only people who should have known it at all were either dead or her tentative allies. The redhead didn’t smirk, or make any sign of acknowledgment at all, simply dropped the pen.  
“ _You have made the wrong enemies. Do not expect to leave here alive._ ” And with that the woman pounced, Ophelia reeling back and raising her gun but the smaller woman was smart _and_ fast, a dangerous combination and she watched as her gun was kicked from her hands and slid across the floor. She scrunched her nose, blocking the woman’s blows, taking note of her speed and the places she tried to hit most. The redhead kicked out one of Ophelia’s knees which she barely recovered from before she found the woman had climbed her form, legs wrapped around her neck. Ophelia felt a smallest amount of panic rise in her throat, this woman was _good_ . She managed to pull her arms through the other woman’s legs as the assault on her head began and used her elbows to force her thighs apart. Before the woman even had time to fall back to the ground, Ophelia had grabbed her by the hips and held her somewhat in place as she threw her down onto the nearest surface; a large industrial printer that cracked and sparked at the violent contact. The redhead groaned but immediately tried to stand, the dark haired woman stopping her with a boot to the chest.  
“ _This one’s life is not worth your own. Stay down._ ” Truthfully Ophelia wasn’t sure why she was even giving this woman a chance. She had made it very clear through words and actions that she intended to kill her but there was just something so _familiar_ about the girl. Ophelia took a moment as the woman grabbed and struggled with her ankle, eyes raking in girl as her foot pressed harder. It was then she realised this girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Possibly younger. Ophelia felt bile rise in her throat.

She knew that there were places out there, organisations that existed solely to raise spies, she herself had belonged to one of the first in the 20th century, but this was ridiculous. This girl was a _child_ . A child raised to kill and hunt and to be killed and hunted in return. Ophelia looked away for a moment, toward the office doors gathering her thoughts. She took a deep breath and was about to speak again when she heard the familiar clicking of a gun. She cursed loudly and rolled to the side, and then again when a second gunshot went off, shattering the wood of the desk nearby. Ophelia curled her lips in disgust at both herself and whoever sent the girl.  
Sometimes she wished she’d had the compassion beaten out of her like Alexei used to say. The redhead moved a lot more sluggishly now and Ophelia knew her collision with the machine had hurt her. No normal person could withstand that amount of battering, but then again, if this girl was trained from birth then she could probably deal with a lot more than most.  
Ophelia ripped an armoured panel from her leg and raised it just as the girl rounded the corner of the desk she was hiding under, blocking the bullet and kicking out the girl’s legs.  
But even as the dark haired woman climbed atop her, the redhead was fighting back viciously. Ophelia used a knee to pin down her left arm and stepped on the girl’s right hand with her foot. She reached down, placing a hand over her mouth even as she kicked.

“ _Stop it! You are a child pawn in an adult’s game. I refuse to play with you any longer!_ ” As she spoke Ophelia could hear a harsh wind picking up outside, her eyes raising curiously from the redhead below her to the glass window displaying the city.  
“What on …” She spoke in English as her confusion set in, but blanched when she realised what had happened.  
“ _You are a distraction while he escapes._ ” Ophelia wanted to punch herself for not having realised it. She had a very limited amount of time now. She restrained herself from using full force in her anger, but hit the girl in the temple knocking her out nonetheless and climbed off her.  
She paid little mind to her surroundings as she approached Bauer’s office doors, ripping them open with too much force. She could see the helicopter landing on the pad outside the office’s large, almost home like balcony, it's lights shining in and illuminating the large office.

“ _My dearest gnädige Frau… They warned me of you!_ ” Klaus voice came from her left and she turned stiffly, looking upon the man she once knew, no longer young and handsome in his youth, but old and ravaged by time. He looked cruel, like his deeds had affected his face.  
“ _They were right to warn you._ ” Was all she found she could say back to him, deeply concerned by how the familiarity was affecting her ability to just pull out her gun and shoot him. He closed the suitcase on his desk, hefting it to his side and Ophelia watched his movements carefully.  
“ _I can’t see your face but… you look not a day older Fräulein._ ” She wasn’t sure why she did it, but slowly Ophelia reached up, and removed the mask from her face. He seemed to sigh contently.  
“ _Your eyes. Beautiful as ever._ ”  
“ _I’m going to kill you regardless of the compliments you shower me with, Klaus._ ” Her voice came back to her and Bauer hung his head a little nodding even as she drew closer.  
“ _See, after you left that’s what I learnt. You weren’t to be admired in your headstrong nature, Fräulein. You were to be feared. Your unpredictability cost us much. Cost us_ ** _everything_** _. And now we hide in the shadows…_ ” His hand moved uneasily on the briefcase, like he was nervous, and she decided she wanted to get a look inside it when he was dead. She moved closer to him still, stalking his movements.  
“ _Some would say being feared is a good thing._ ” She replied and Bauer chuckled.  
“ _You can kill as many of us as you like. But there is only one of you and when you cut one head off tw-_ ”  
“ _-Two more take its place. I know this… That why I brought a really big knife._ ” She emphasised her words by pulling from her hips two large knives, curved blades espoused by ornate handles shaped like snakes bodies. It had been silly and immature, but she’d seen the blades and the aesthetic of it all called to her too much. When they caught the light of the helicopter the emeralds in the snake’s eyes shone. Klaus was somehow, still quick in his old age and he stumbled back even as Ophelia vaulted his desk, slashing out and kicking him back further when she realised she’d miss.  
“ _HYDRA_ _cannot be allowed to exist._ ” She told him, towering over his form, spinning the knives in her hands and getting ready to finish him off.  
“ _Whether or not you wish to believe it you_ ** _are_** _HYDRA. You helped them commit their atrocities. You have blood on your hands you will never wipe clean!_ ” Klaus was wheezing slightly but his voice was dark and Ophelia growled at his words, moving to stab him when the air was taken from her throat.  
She dropped her knives, hands coming to the sudden rope around her throat as she was pulled back against the desk, the redheaded girl using her weight to choke her.  
“ _Kill her now, and I will sing your praises to Madame B.!_ ” Klaus was calling to the redhead who began pulling harder, cutting off the circulation in the fingers Ophelia had managed to slip under the rope. The man was standing now, and he bent, taking her daggers gingerly as he watched her struggle against the other woman.  
“ _I think I will take these as trophies. The Viper, finally defanged_.” He laughed at his own joke and Ophelia grunted, the black in the edges of her vision beginning to seep in.

No, she couldn’t let Klaus win. She had more to do! She gasped as her hands fell from her neck, scrambling for purchase on the desk until she found something, small, thin and long Ophelia gathered it into her palm and with a deep breath she jammed it back into the redheads body, the hold loosening immediately as she yelled. Ophelia rolled from the desk, grasping her throat as she watched the young woman pull the old fountain pen from her neck, hands already covered in blood as she applied pressure, stumbling back from the older woman. Ophelia’s whole mouth felt dry and she continued gasping for breath, moving to her feet before a pain behind her eyes forced her down again. She clutched her head and willed the memories away. Now was not the time!  


_September 1945_

“After all this time, we have finally perfected the process of wiping one’s memories. Do you know how we did it?” Ophelia had found herself once again strapped down to a chair. They hadn’t forced her, the ties were unnecessary, though she had not bothered to speak. At this stage they would act as if they hadn’t heard her anyway. She simply eyed the man as he spoke, placing a metal band around her forehead and pushing her back into The Machine. It took everything in her not to stay still and let the man push against her shoulder aimlessly.  
But she was done fighting.  
The wires connecting her metal headpiece to The Machine around her began fizzing and vibrating as the scientist flicked a switch.  
“We did it by reading Schmidt’s journals and notes. He had a whole file on your ‘mental fortitude’ and the resistance to low level wiping. So we will turn this-” Ophelia’s eyes followed to where his fingers turned a dial, formerly set at 4 and now coming to rest on 12. In her mind she began to panic. She already recognised The Machine’s whirring, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she’d sat here a hundred times before.  
“-All the way up here. And by the time we are done here with you, you will be nothing more than what you were always meant to be. A tool. An Asset.” With those words he flicked another series of switches and ungracefully pried Ophelia’s jaw apart, pulling one leather glove from her hand and shoving it between her teeth. Ophelia clamped down instinctively. This was not what she wanted at all. She had expected HYDRA to execute her, in fact she had welcomed the idea. An asset, a tool he had called her. For once Ophelia felt just like that. She began to outwardly struggle, one hand almost completely free from its bindings when the man called to others in the room.  
_"Bauer! Her arm! Hold it!” Klaus stepped forward, fear evident in his eyes as his hands struggled against her own. She refused to be part of this any longer. The scientist hurriedly pressed in the final button.  
_ The electric shocks started and cut off any escape Ophelia had planned. The pain was unlike anything she had felt before and all she could do was scream into the leather in her mouth.

_1, 2, 3, 4--_

_It stopped for a moment, and she could feel her mind threatening to lose consciousness. She held on._

_5, 6, 6--_

_Things went dull. She opened her eyes, but all she could see was the pain. No, she had to hang in. They would not take her mind from her. It was all she had left._

_8, 9--_

_What was happening?! Why Counting? No, don’t ask just count, she had to count!_

_10, 11, 11, 10--_

_Why was she counting? Why was sh-_

_It went dark. And then it turned cold._

  

Ophelia threw up, her throat on fire as the memory forced its way to the surface just like they had before. Her mouth tasted disgusting as the bile and vomit exited her system and she spat, forcing her mind to clear itself, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and eyes wildly searching for Klaus. He’d almost made it across the room to the door, but had turned, watching as the women tore apart. His eyes were wide when they landed on Ophelia, pure unadulterated rage the only thing in hers as she looked at him. He did that to her. _He_ watched and helped as HYDRA turned her into a tool. An _Asset_.  
Ophelia ran after him, the old man unable to out manoeuvre her as she grabbed him, throwing him back against the far wall, the framed pictures and plaques around him falling to the ground as he did and Ophelia walked toward him, the threats she didn’t need to speak emanating from her being as she towered over him, her eyes usually so bright seemed black with the intense rage she looked down at him with.  
“ _You’re making a mistake, Ophelia… you will_ **_never_ ** _be free. HYDRA will always be right here…_ ” His voice was harsh, as if he was forcing it out of his body and he tapped the side of his head. Ophelia cocked her head, leant down and seized him by the throat, lifting him all the way off the ground to bring him to her height.  
“ _The only mistake you’ve made is thinking taking my knives defanged me._ ” Her voice was deeper than usual and the mans small eyes squinted at her in confusion as he continued to gasp for breath. She studied his face just momentarily longer before squeezing her hand at just the right motion. From her wrist gauntlet jutted out two large curved objects, the tips curving and thrusting into Klaus’ neck. The man gasped and pawed at it as she dropped him to the floor. Her work was done. She flicked his hands out of her way as she grabbed the suitcase from his hand, standing and moving to walk away. A soft choking sound from nearby stopped her however and Ophelia’s rage seemed to recede when her eyes caught the redheaded girl’s.

The girl was lying on the ground, hands holding her neck as blood seeped heavily through it. With fear in her eyes she looked even younger and Ophelia couldn’t help but approach.  
“ _Please…_ ” The word confused the dark haired woman until she looked to where the redhead was trying, however lamely, to grab the gun on her thigh.  
“ _You kill me._ ” Ophelia frowned, and moved the girls hands aside, the little resistance she gave weak. The wound was deep but it hadn’t hit her jugular and with proper care she would survive easily.  
“ _You kill me, or they will._ ” That made Ophelia taste the sick in her mouth again as the woman continued palming her gun, trying to reach it.  
For the second time that evening Ophelia wished she’d woken up in that laboratory with no sense of compassion. She grunted, looking around, the wheezing Klaus still somewhat living in his slumped position on the wall. The helicopter’s personnel would come looking for him soon, as would any security still on alert.

Ophelia pursed her lips.  


~

  
The motel’s lighting was horrendous the dark haired woman thought, wondering when she’d started caring about such things. She’d stripped off her tactical gear, throwing them in the corner as she turned the shower water to the hottest setting. Her muscles ached. Ophelia looked at her face in the mirror, the sharp edges and lines looking so much more harsh in the dim downlighting, her cheeks looking hollower and the bags under her eyes more pronounced. She wasn’t sure why, but she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it to lay the other direction. It still looked messy, wild and untamed. She turned away from her reflection as it began fogging up, and stepped into the water. Her skin seemed to loosen as she was covered in the steaming hot stream, like the water washed not just the dirt and grime away, but her worries too. She knew it was only a temporary fix. The second she stepped back out, she had a whole new set of worries waiting for her in the next room. Ophelia squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the thought from her mind.  
She ran the cloth the motel provided over her skin blindly, letting the water tame her hair into more docile shapes. Flashes of the memory she’d seen earlier ran through her mind again, The Machine, Klaus holding her down when asked, even after everything they’d done together.  


It had taken Ophelia a long, long time to accept she hadn’t made the choices that led her to HYDRA. She was a young girl, in the wrong place at the wrong time, kidnapped and betrayed by those around her. When she had first began her foray into researching HYDRA it had made her physically ill several times to know what she had been part of, what she had helped to do. Ophelia was ashamed. She had broken through to memories of being Madame Hydra, how proud she was, how much she had loved and wanted to impress Schmidt. How willing she had been to do anything for their cause.  
She wanted to erase it all from the world. Wipe HYDRA off the map.  
The water turned cold all too quickly, and she sighed, moving out of the stream and into the steamed up room. She took one of the provided towels and dried herself systematically, before dressing again. She had no other clothes with her, and she was not about to go back to her safe house with her current problem. Ophelia was still tying her hair when she opened the bathroom door, letting the heat and steam roll out into the rest of the room. Her eyes were immediately on the girl, currently handcuffed to the bed. Ophelia had dressed and wrapped her wounded neck before waiting for the girl to sleep, taking her opportunity to shower only then. She’d known when the girl had stopped pretending to sleep and actually fallen asleep, because her breathing had evened out and she’d lost the slightly troubled expression. She’d looked nigh on angelic when the dark haired woman had left her sleeping, dirty red hair splayed around her head, porcelain skin flecked with blood like freckles. Ophelia was unsurprised to find the girl awake when she entered the room, her blue eyes watching her.

It had disturbed the older woman just slightly at how comfortable the girl had been with being handcuffed to the bed, and how she’d actually fallen asleep that way. It reminded her very vaguely of her childhood, though she couldn't remember why, nor was the memory seeming to come even if she tried to.  
“Who sent you to watch Bauer?” Ophelia’s voice broke the deep silence between them as she took a seat in the lounge chair in the corner, a simple tactical knife in her hands, more so for her own twitchiness than as a threat. The girl’s blue eyes watched her spin the blade back and forth, but she didn’t answer.  
“Do you speak English?” she asked in Russian, and the girl’s eyes finally found hers.  
“Yes.”  
“No accent either. Whoever trained you was smarter than whoever trained me.” Ophelia replied, trying to come across conversational. She could fake an American or an English accent if she wanted, but she’d never been taught from childhood, it wasn’t instinct. And it annoyed her to no end, she’d have blended in so much better if she had no accent affecting all her languages. The redhead’s forehead creased ever so slightly, Ophelia only noticing it because of the bad lighting. She refrained from smirking.  
“They said you’d kill me. And if you didn’t then they would.” The dark haired woman pressed her lips together, her eyes squinting in the lowlight.  
“Why?”  
“Because if you didn’t kill me then I would have failed.”  
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”  
“Not all of us are not expected to live. It does not matter for we will have served our purpose.” That struck a chord in Ophelia and she sucked on her teeth for a moment.   
“Who sent you?” She asked after a moment and the girl once again didn’t answer.  
“What’s your name?”  
“Natasha.” Ophelia sighed.  
“My name is Ophelia.”  
“I know.” She sighed again, switching to spinning her knife in just one hand, the other rubbing at her forehead. Natasha’s eyes followed the knife again.  
“You didn’t kill your target.” She spoke, her voice seemingly more confident this time, and there was curiosity behind it that made Ophelia look up.  
“What makes you say that?”  
“He was still breathing when we left.”  
“Yes. But by the time he spoke with HYDRA, your possible bosses, he would have died shortly thereafter.” Natasha’s face seemed to change, her expression turning from confused curiosity to a look of almost reverence.  
“You poisoned him. You wanted them to know it was you…” Ophelia cocked her head. She’d never really discussed her tactics or her planning with anyone.  
“Viper poison is slow working. It doesn’t contain neurotoxins like other snake venoms, it attacks the victims blood system, preventing clotting and producing coagulopathy which means they won’t stop bleeding. The target will live for some time until eventually, their blood pressure is lowered so much, blood can't circulate their organs. And then they die.” She spoke slowly, the knife in her hand moving slower too.  
“So yes. I wanted him to live to tell his superiors. He said something interesting to me earlier.” Ophelia paused, feeling much like a bad guy from one of the English spy films Alexei had loved so much as she monologued in a lounge chair, weapon in her hand. She cleared her throat and placed the knife flat against the arm of the chair.  
“He said to me I was the reason HYDRA was forced to hide in the shadows. He gives me entirely too much credit, but I’m not one to let a dying man’s wishes go unanswered.” Natasha’s brows were now knit together in a fully formed frown.

“I will be the reason they stay in the shadows.” Ophelia couldn’t help the darkness in her voice when she thought about it. She would make sure HYDRA never stepped foot in the light of day. The soft clearing of a throat brought her from her thoughts.  
“I’m not part of HYDRA…” Natasha seemed to be speaking out of self preservation and Ophelia raised a brow.  
“Even if you were I wouldn’t kill you, don’t panic now _Vörös_.” Natasha cocked her head, a question unasked on her lips.  
“How old are you?” Ophelia sighed out the question and Natasha seemed to answer proudly though it made the darker haired woman once again taste bile in her mouth.  
“Fifteen.”  
“ _jézus kibaszott krisztus_.”  
“I’m top of my class.” The words angered Ophelia, they were defensive in their response and she couldn’t understand why the girl would defend her captors.  
“You’re a child.” The words, harsh and final in their delivery made Natasha’s mouth close, any more arguments dying on her lips. But then again Ophelia could understand. She didn’t know any better and what she knew was all she knew. She was a child.  
“You are a child, like I was a child.” And that was all she said as she stood, grabbing the large coat from the end table.  
“I truly hope your life leads you away from these things from this point forwards. And I pray for you sake we never meet again.” Ophelia shrugged the coat on her shoulders as the redhead began to finally pull at the handcuffs.  
“Where are you going?! You cannot leave me here they will find me and kill me!” The girl protested, rattling the handcuffs on the bed frame.  
“You can break your binds and leave and they will find you, or you can stay and discover the new life I have bargained for you in America.” The girl stopped at those words, a mixed look or awe, horror and confusion on her face.  
“You stay here and you get away from this world, Natasha. I will be watching the room from afar to make sure none enter but the one you're waiting for. _Viszontlátásra, Vörös_.”

Ophelia left and locked the door, and keeping her word she watched the rundown motel from afar for two days, knowing the girl inside would be exhausted from lack of food and water. It wasn’t her intention to starve her, but it would at least mean she wouldn’t try and fight the agent SHIELD sent. And at almost, exactly 48 hours into her watch, Ophelia perked up, spying a young man who stuck out to her like a sore thumb. As requested he’d worn blue jeans and a red sweater. Ophelia watched as he fumbled with his key card and finally tore herself from the scene as SHIELD Agent Clint Barton stepped inside the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter three, a week early as an apology for being late with chapter 2 :)
> 
> Thanks again to the Angel that is my editor Tiff <3


	4. The Winter Soldier

Part Four

 

_April 4_ _th_ _, 2014_

 

Ophelia watched, a sick feeling in her stomach as the black vehicle ahead of her was rammed from the side, the driver immediately cushioned by the airbag as three more fake police cars slammed into him from all sides. She waited, hands itching on the handles of her stationary motorcycle, wanting to get off and do something. But she couldn’t, not yet. A black SWAT van pulled up alongside and ‘officers’ in black filtered out, guns at the ready. Ophelia lowered the visor on her helmet steeling herself as they opened fire on the car. She almost pulled her own weapon when they began using the battering ram but kept her hands firmly on the accelerator as gunfire began pouring out from within the car, watching as the ‘officers’ dropped, obviously not expecting The Director of SHIELD to have security measures with him at all times. She clicked her tongue as one of the cars blew, the explosion lifting it up and onto the hood of the one next to it. Ophelia revved her engine and took off when the black car kicked into gear, speeding off down the street. She needed to speak to the man inside.

She swerved in and out of traffic, keeping one eye on the black car at all times as more of the false cop cars pulled up to give chase. She pulled her handgun from its place on her thigh and fired twice into the closest pursuer that had pushed its way beside her. It screeched as her bullets hit home, the now dead driver and passenger slumping forward as they swerved off the road and into a side ramp. Ophelia turned her gaze back to the black car, following it’s sharp turn. The false police force picked up on her presence in the chase, and she heard the familiar bang and hiss of bullets flying past her. She turned quickly, shooting at the tires on the car that was now speeding up behind her. It too made an ear piercing noise as it's brakes where slammed on and Ophelia managed to pick up enough speed to move to the passenger’s side of the van. Her helmet was still intact and the man inside was shooting her cursory looks. She gave him a thumbs up, not bothering to wait for his reaction as she slowed, coming neck in neck with the last remaining vehicle.

She still needed her bike and couldn’t ditch it just yet and she fired her gun again, the driver collapsing as the passenger grabbed the wheel, shooting at her all the while. Ophelia grinned and with a mighty heave she kicked out at the car, sending it veering off to the side and crashing into a streetlight. She settled herself back on her seat and sped up again, following the black car as it turned onto a main road, it's driver occasionally shooting her looks in the rearview. Ophelia slowed down to drive behind the car and cast a brief glance backwards as she maintained pace, making sure they’d lost all pursuers. They seemed to be in the clear for now, but the black car was completely conspicuous with it's sides riddled with bullet holes and she needed to make sure it's driver survived this.

Suddenly, like the flick of a switch Ophelia had this nagging feeling in her stomach, every fibre of her being screaming at her that something _wasn't right_. She turned her gaze back to the front and felt her blood freeze. She couldn’t even react as the man in the middle of the road lifted his gun, and fired, launching some sort of disk that flew under the black car and exploded. She slammed on her brakes and fell to the ground, managing only just to slide under the vehicle as the force of the explosion propelled it upward slightly. Her bike slid away from her, the man stepping aside as both she and the car skidded past him. Ophelia grabbed at the ground with her gloved hands, slowing herself to a stop as she breathed heavily, ripping the helmet off her head as the car flipped and continued moving just past her until finally grinding to a stop. The man in black stood and watched, and Ophelia willed herself to her feet, her pants torn up, her legs and arms bleeding significantly from the impact.

She crawled around to the side of the black car, now leaking heavy black smoke and ripped the door off its hinges, leaning down to look at the man inside, eyes also flicking back to where the man in black was slowly approaching.  
“Go! You have to go now, I will hold him off!” Her voice was lined with panic and the man inside seemed to be trying to shake himself from his shock, whilst also getting a good look at her.  
“Who are you?!” Ophelia wanted to shake him for the stupidly timed question.  
“You will know me only as Viper. But you have to go, HYDRA has SHIELD by the throat. You need to go now, tell the Captain, tell Romanoff-” She was cut off by a hand grabbing her by the back of the neck and throwing her roughly to the side and with such force it almost knocked the wind out of her. Ophelia grunted as she hit the pavement and rolled, wheezing as her eyes spotted the man in black, now also leaning down into the car. She pushed herself to get up and she yelled, drawing her familiar enemy’s attention back to her as she pounced on him, smacking him in the face with her knee as he turned, her blow hard enough to push him back into the side  of the car, leaving behind a small dent.

Thirty-one years had passed since she’d last seen him. Thirty-one years since he had slaughtered Alexei and given her her new mission. Thirty-one years she’d been hunting HYDRA down one by one and here she was, once again facing a man she knew all too well, while he failed to recognise her at all. His face was nearly fully covered this time, mask and goggles obscuring everything but his hair and forehead and Ophelia cracked her neck, ready for round four. He lunged at her silently, throwing a punch she dodged, hand grabbing the knife on her belt and hooking their arms as she swung him around so that she was now in between him and the man in the car.

“Get out of here!” She called, never taking her eyes off her opponent who moved in again. She ducked, and then jumped back slightly, evading a swift kick. She swiped him with her snake headed blade, catching him in the ribs, though his leather vest seemed to take most of the damage and he tried again, moving for her. Ophelia used the car for height and momentum, kicking off it and gaining height as she wrapped her legs around his middle, attempting to stab at his collarbone with the knife but he used his left arm, the one she distinctly remembered was metal, to block the blow knocking the blade from her hand. She caught his neck quickly, pulling him down a little as he attempted to bash at her chest with a closed fist but Ophelia brought her elbows in tight, trapping his arm in between their bodies. Before the dark haired woman could move to do anything else, the hand between them gripped the front of her jacket at an angle and forcefully spun her around, the woman’s legs unfurling and she landed ungracefully on her back on the ground in front of him, only just managing to move her head before his fist came down. The concrete underneath cracked like eggshells. Using her legs again, Ophelia kicked up over her head, pushing him back, but his stamina and persistence was like hers and he immediately came forward for her again as she got to her feet, throwing a powerful spinning kick that sent him flying again, despite his arm coming up to block her.

Ophelia threw a look into the car, noticing that the man inside had disappeared and she exhaled, even as a strong hand grasped around her throat, lifting her up and pinning her to the side of the car. It was his metal hand, she could tell just by the strength of the grip, and the woman could feel her lungs struggling as he squeezed harder. If she were a normal woman her oesophagus would have been crushed by now, but she simply brought her own hands up, clawing at his arm. For a moment the squeezing stopped and in her panic-fuelled mind Ophelia could hear soft, buzzing words.

It took her a second, but finally her brain clicked and realised the words were coming from the earpiece in his head.

_“Stop wasting time. You failed and Fury is gone. Return for debriefing immediately.”_

The blue eyed man’s expressionless mask seemed to stare at her for several more seconds before he shoved her roughly into the back of the car, sending her head spinning and she was dropped to her knees, gasping for air. Ophelia’s vision was blurry and dazed and she tried to keep track of him as her lungs desperately took in air and she sputtered, but he’d gone, disappearing as she pushed to her feet, panting heavily and looking around as cars and people began stopping.

She needed to get out of there.

 

 

_April 6_ _th_ _, 2014_

 

“The only reason I got away was thanks to _your_ old friend, Romanoff…” Fury eyed the redheaded woman who frowned.  
“Who-”  
“Viper.” The question was answered before Natasha could finish asking it and she straightened up, almost uncomfortably, shooting the blonde man next to her a look.  
“Are you sure it was her?”  
“She fit the description you gave, _and_ she told me so herself. Told me to get to you and Rogers… Though I can understand why she wouldn’t have shown up herself.” The blonde man looked between Fury in the bed and Natasha next to him, feeling very much like there was something he had missed.  
“Who’s Viper?” He asked and the redhead seemed to purse her lips.  
“That’s the million dollar question…” Fury sighed and Natasha cleared her throat.  
“You remember years ago, when I told you Clint saved my life, turned me on the straight and narrow?” The blonde nodded.  
“That was only part of the truth… I was on a mission, in Russia… I was protecting some HYDRA scumbag who had an assassin out after him. I wasn’t expected to survive, but the assassin, Viper, she… She spared me, saved my life. Contacted SHIELD. Clint was the ground agent who picked me up but Viper was the one who… took me away from the Red Room.” Natasha’s mouth felt dry. She’d spent years researching Viper, trying to find out where she came from and had finally made some headway, only, it wasn’t exactly something she knew Steve would be glad to hear. He looked at her with curiosity and confusion on his face, trying to put the pieces together.  
“Viper is ex-HYDRA. We’ve been looking into her for years trying to figure out what her goals were. She’s never made contact beyond helping me and apparently, saving Nick.”  
“For the past 30 years we’ve had reports of her activity, covert ops, seemingly random assassinations and murders, but when we looked deeper, they were all HYDRA related.” Fury filled in.  
“So what aren’t you telling me?” Steve Rogers finally spoke up again, his face now set in a stern frown and his fist curling around the strap on his red white and blue shield.  
“We traced the moniker ‘Viper’ back to a programme outsourced by HYDRA in Europe before the Second World War. It preceded The Red Room in it's goals and succeed in producing one perfect spy, the perfect infiltrator.” Steve’s face didn’t change from the frown even as his mind began replaying scene of him hearing this information before. He knew this. How did he know th-

“Madame Hydra.” His blood began to boil a little, but he did his best to stay calm. It was difficult though, seeing as Madame Hydra, Ophelia Sarkissian had been the reason for many of their people dying in the war, and despite not knowing the whole situation he immediately held her partially accountable for what had happened to Bucky. Steve could still see the face of his best friend, hair long and raggedy as he’d turned to him, a look of disgust on his face.  
_“Who the hell is Bucky?”  
_ The words played over and over until he felt a hand on his arm and he looked down at Natasha.  
“Steve, I know you and Sarkissian have a lot of history but… Whatever was holding her to HYDRA is gone… she’s been hunting them down… She saved me… _Saved_ Nick...” Steve felt his jaw set. His mind was working overtime. Bucky didn’t know who he was, but it was definitely Bucky… what if HYDRA had done to Sarkissian during the war what they’d seemingly done to his best friend? The SSR had always known she was raised and brainwashed to work for HYDRA, what if she’d broken it and gotten free? What if she wasn’t evil? He shook his head, turning away from the other two people in the room.  
  
“We don’t have time to talk about ghosts. We need to stop Pierce.” Natasha and Fury shared a look, but nodded. There were more pressing matters.

 

 

_June 5_ _th_ _, 2014_

 

Ophelia had watched from a distance as the HYDRA infested SHIELD had fallen, both literally and figuratively. By the time she’d gathered herself to try and figure out what to do, Captain America had brought it all tumbling to the ground, and rightfully so. She had planned to confront the Captain, clear her name has much as she could, and offer her particular HYDRA hunting skill set, but he’d seemed to have had it all handled before she could even track him down. She’d been in America following this lead for two years, having heard whispers of HYDRA sleeper agents within SHIELD, she’d independently uncovered the plans for a hostile takeover right around the time Director Fury had. It was time to move on. And now that all of SHIELD/HYRDA’s database had been dumped on the internet, she’d had many doors opened up in Europe, her contacts sounding off like crazy with reports of uncovered HYDRA networks or agents all over the place. Things would begin shuffling soon and she wanted to catch as many as she could off guard before they had the chance to disappear.

Ophelia cast her gaze around the street, eyes squinting as she took in as many people as she could, before landing on the rooftops above her, accessing them quickly before crossing the street. She’d landed in Germany a month prior and had set about creating an alias there, blending in in her rundown neighbourhood while carefully tracking and mapping the schedule and movements of one Tomas Himmel. The man was former SHIELD, but had been running counter intelligence for HYDRA his whole career. He was the head of the snake here in Western Europe, alerting various agents one by one and directing them to where they should go to remain undercover. Ophelia would be glad to get rid of him. But something had felt off for several weeks, holding her back from moving in. She felt watched. Whenever she left her home she felt eyes on her, and she was damn near certain someone had been in her shabby rented apartment, but she just couldn’t seem to catch them. No matter what she did, they evaded her pursuit, and if it weren’t for Tomas’ apparent obliviousness she would have felt compromised. He hadn’t began behaving like someone who knew they were being hunted would, no more than the usual cautiousness spies employed anyway. Ophelia was _sure_ he didn’t know about her and yet, someone else did. Her thoughts had been confirmed two days ago when she’d tried a new tactic.

Ophelia had pursed her lips but put pen to paper, her small scrawled words flowing from the end of the pen.  
  
_Take me if you are a friend._  
  
She’d fought with herself for hours on what to write on the note, knowing that whoever was stalking her could easily fake or lie in their response. But they hadn’t attempted anything threatening yet and she knew she would have to put some trust in them. She’d left the paper peeking out from under her windowsill, certain that was how the intruder was entering and exiting. She’d been right upon her return home that evening. Her window had been left open, and the paper was gone. Ophelia had considered writing another note, but she hadn’t yet thought of what to say. For now she just acted as she would normally, but with the knowledge that she had a shadow.

The dark haired woman pulled her scarf up around her face a little more, for once not to hide her identity, but because the cold was whipping harshly across her face. She’d almost been caught that morning, in fact, she was almost certain the man with Tomas had seen her. She wasn’t optimistic enough to think he’d let her off as a nosy passersby and had been walking in circles for some time trying to shake any tail she might’ve received. So far she’d stopped in several shops, walked around the block twice and was now finally heading toward her little apartment building. Ophelia dug into her pocket and pulled her key out, pushing the buildings heavy door open as she began climbing the stairs.  
Immediately she felt her heart sink. It was the same feeling she’d had hundreds of times before when something was wrong, some small part of her brain reacting to minuscule clues she hadn’t yet picked up on. She slowed her pace as she reached the last flight of stairs before her door, the hand not holding her key moving to rest on the hilt of the large knife in her pocket. Ophelia’s eyes darted around the landing as she saw it, not a thing out of place and she slowly, cautiously slipped her key into the lock, feeling somewhat vindicated when the lock clicked.  
The feeling disappeared the second she stepped foot inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

The strong stench of blood lingered in the air, only discernible with her enhanced senses, and Ophelia pulled the knife completely from her pocket, discarding her large coat and scarf on the floor silently, not wishing to be hindered by the items should she need to either fight or flee. The dark haired woman crept forwards along the small hallway that led to the kitchen, spotting what looked like smears of blood on the countertop, as if a face had been bashed into it repeatedly. Her eyes narrowed as she rounded on the door to the only other room in the tiny apartment, blade at the ready as she pushed open the bedroom. The smell was stronger, almost sickeningly so, and she could see clear evidence of a fight, the bed messy, the walls dented in spots and the side table looked to have been knocked over completely.  
Laboured breathing caught her attention and Ophelia’s eyes flickered toward the ensuite bathroom, the light on but the door partially closed. She couldn’t see inside from her angle and inched closer, backing up against the adjacent wall, pushing the door open quickly with one hand, waiting for the attacker to strike. They didn’t, and she waited, hearing the breathing stop, turning quiet. As she counted the seconds in her mind, her eyes flickered across the contents of her upturned bedside table taking quick note of the items on the floor, observing with some unease that the tactical knife she kept there was nowhere to be found.  
  
Ophelia breathed in deeply before raising her weapon and finally turning on the room. What she saw filled her with mild shock as she took in the scene silently for several moments.  
The first thing she noticed was the man leaning against her bathtub, his clothes torn and bloody, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He was leant forward slightly, long dark hair obscuring his face, but Ophelia already knew who it was. The former Sergeant James Barnes looked up at her, only moving his head slightly. She could see in his eyes he was weak. The second thing she noticed was the dead man _in_ the bathtub. Red smears and specks covered the already grimy tiles of the splashback as well as the off white tub, and Ophelia didn’t need to get a closer look to know the man’s throat had been cut. No other injury caused that much blood. For several minutes, only the sound of the living man’s heavy breathing filled the room and Ophelia’s mind ran in circle trying to make sense of the situation. Barnes had been her stalker obviously. But who was the newcom-  
She took one step further into the room to see the man’s face when she realised it was the guy that had been with Tomas earlier that day.  
How had he found her? She was definitely compromised now. Her eyes flickered back to the man who sat on the bathroom floor, the blood soaked tactical knife resting by his hand. Ophelia reached out with her foot and kicked it away from his reach. Her brain began shifting into a more logical mode she usually reserved when she was actively hunting someone.  
“You are hurt?” She asked the man who hadn’t let his eyes leave her since she’d entered the room. He nodded, movement stunted.  
“Do you know who I am?”  
“The woman from Russia…” His words were quiet and for the first time she heard him speak in English, reminding her of his history. His explanation and the fact he’d murdered someone who had probably tried to kill her was enough for her in that moment, and she placed her knife on the bathroom sink with a loud clattering sound that drew his eyes towards her, and she moved in closer. Ophelia paused when she noticed him immediately flinching away and she reminded herself of how her own behaviour had mirrored a cornered animal when she had been saved by Alexei over thirty-five years prior.  
“I’m going to help you up. I need to see you. To help.” Barnes slowly nodded once again, and she could see the forcefulness in the movements. He must have been exhausted. He didn’t move again as she knelt next to him, putting an arm around the back of his torso. Whether it was muscle memory or he knew what to do, his arm found is way around her shoulder and they worked in unison to bring him to his feet. He stumbled a little and Ophelia used her strength to hold him up as best she could.  
“Steady, steady…” His breathing became slightly worse and he winced, drawing a hand to his ribs.  
“ _I’ve got you… just lean on me, I won’t let you fall._ ” She spoke as quietly and as comfortingly as she could, the words subconsciously coming out in her native tongue and the man in her hold took in a deep breath, nodding once more as Ophelia began to slowly lead him from the blood splattered bathroom.

With relative ease, Ophelia had managed to undress his top half, revealing a small stab wound in his side that oozed with blood. She’d frowned at it for minutes as she’d tried to stop the bleeding, going through cloth after cloth until a realisation hit her. Her knife had been slathered in snake venom and if he’d been stabbed with it first then he was slowly dying of the venom, the blood refusing to coagulate. She’d scrambled to the floor under the bed she’d laid him on, reaching under to pull a small briefcase out. Wiping her hand so that the fingerprint lock would get a clear read, she pressed her thumb to the lock, waiting as the little lights flashed green before the lid popped open. Ophelia wasted no time in procuring a small vial, uncapping the lid. She kept the anti-venom only in the case she was ever attacked with her own weapons, but this was as good a reason as any. Sitting back next to Barnes on the bed, he groaned with her movement as she gently tapped the side of his face.  
"Open your mouth, you need to take this.” In his sickly haze he didn’t require much convincing, a hand moving out to accept anything she gave him. She pushed it away and leant over his face, pouring the liquid in to his mouth.  
“Swallow as much as you can. I need you to sit up.” It was as if he were an obedient dog, the way he followed her instruction to a ‘T’ and if the situation were different Ophelia might’ve become angered with the treatment they’d both been given.

The cure didn’t take long to act, and soon Ophelia was wrapping his side up tightly, discarded towels and clothing items that had been used in an attempt to stem the bleeding surrounding them on the floor. Barnes’ head hung forward and his shoulders slumped, but his eyes followed Ophelia’s movements carefully, as if any moment he expected her to pull out another knife and stab him again.  
“You will need to rest. You need to sleep so this can heal properly.” She spoke quietly again, only looking up to catch his eye for a moment. She knew what she was asking of him wasn’t easy. She still struggled to sleep every night, and it had been thirty years for her. But she also didn’t give the man much room to argue, pushing his shoulder back gently. He didn’t budge at first, but on her second, harder attempt, he fell back against the pillows, eyes still wide and watching her.  
“I just saved you, I’m not going to waste that effort just to kill you in your sleep.” She told him exasperatedly and watched the smallest of creases appear on his forehead. Ophelia continued to watch him until finally, he closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed but didn’t fall into sleep for nearly an hour. Ophelia had left him to his game of hide and seek, pretending she didn’t know he watched her every time she turned away. She set about draining the bath of blood quickly, giving the walls a wipe down where she could, but ultimately knew she’d need to leave this place. _They’d_ need to leave.  
Ophelia, once only the body was left in the tub and no remaining blood could be found, closed the bathroom door and looked at the man now passed out on the bed. She didn’t know what this all meant, what he wanted from her. Maybe he’d disappear again when his wound had healed more. Maybe he wouldn’t.  
Ophelia cursed her compassion as she realised she hoped he would stay, that she might be able to help him.

He slept for nearly three days straight, waking intermittently with groans of pain and heavy breathing that gave way to what Ophelia recognised as panic. She made her presence known in those moments, but didn’t near him. Alexei had done that with her, allowed her to know she was not alone, that she was safe, but didn't touch her. It wasn’t perhaps the most comforting of tactics, but it was all she knew to do for him. When he finally woke for good on the third day Ophelia was relieved, ready to leave behind the decomposing body in the bathroom, the smell beginning to drive her insane. She’d left him blinking himself awake, reacquainting himself with his surroundings while she heated up a canned soup mix on the stove. He gladly, almost uncharacteristically (though she couldn’t admit to knowing him well) welcomed the idea of food and finished the whole thing quickly and without words. She took the bowl when he finished and stood watching him for a moment. He watched her back with heavy eyes before his head bowed low. Ophelia cocked her head at the action until she realised the movement was that of guilt, the precursor to punishment. She had to forcibly remove the frown from her face and she swallowed thickly.

“Do you want more?” She tried to make her voice sound as calm and soft as she could, but it came out almost hoarse. He shook his head and the dark haired woman bit the inside of her mouth. She remembered intensely the feeling of being constantly tested, the questions designed to slip you up so you would be punished. She didn’t doubt this was what he thought she was doing, but right now she knew she couldn’t do much about it.  
“Tell me who you think I am.” Ophelia cleared her throat and asked her question louder. Barnes looked up at her then, his eyes searching her face.  
“Speak freely.” She hated commanding him as such but she needed to hear what he had to say.  
“You were in the forest… I shot you and… let you go. I don’t know why. And then again in St Petersburg. You called me my name…” He seemed to regain more energy as he spoke, and Ophelia listened carefully.  
“We… you were in Siberia… and Germany. I _know_ you. But I don’t know _how_ .” His voice sounded weak, desperate and Ophelia felt her heart tighten at his words. This must have been how Alexei felt when he first found her.  
“I was there when you first came to HYDRA. You and I were both brainwashed and I was to teach you to fight like me. We were the same. Do you remember?” Her words seemed to strike something in him, though his expression changed only slightly.  
“You told me… You told me not to say anything if I remembered…” Ophelia blinked. Had she said that? What had the context been? She cursed mentally. She had been awake for over thirty years and yet there were whole chunks of her life she was missing and would probably never remember. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest.  
“I… I don’t remember that. They played with my brain too…” Somehow she already knew from his behaviour alone that he’d been treated far worse than she had. He behaved like an obedient animal, not a well trained assassin. The man finally fully met her gaze and for the first time since she’d found him bleeding out in her bathroom he looked more like a man than an asset. Ophelia swallowed thickly and cleared her throat once again, turning to the small closet, pulling down two backpacks, one full and one flimsy, empty.  
“We need to move as soon as you’re able. If that one found me and has not returned, Tomas will eventually come looking for him. That and the body will begin smelling enough that the neighbours will notice.” She packed some of her clothing that wasn’t blood-soaked into the empty bag, moving nearby the bed and producing the small briefcase again, also shoving it into the bag. The man watched her closely as she moved.  
“‘ _We_ ’?” He eventually asked and Ophelia nodded, moving back to zip up the backpack.  
“I assume you will come with me for now. You certainly are not obliged to, but something tells me you are unsure how function on your own.” He remained silent for some time until she looked up at him, one of the bags slung over her shoulder, the other still in her hands.  
  
“Do you have a name I can call you?” She asked, already knowing his full name, his rank and many of his aliases but she wanted to grant him the dignity of giving it to her himself. He looked at her for a moment, his brows drawn together in worry.  
“Bucky.” He finally spoke and the dark haired woman gave him a tight smile.  
“Ophelia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4!
> 
> thank you to my editor Tiff for being incredible once again <3


	5. The Skeleton Crew

Part Five

 

_ December, 2015 _

 

Bucky side-eyed the woman across from him, wondering if now was a good time to ask his question or if she was still in her mood. He figured it was as good a time as any, and she was always encouraging to talk more, especially if it was about things he wanted or had opinions on. It had taken him the better part of a year to really accept anything she had to say about him being more than a tool, more than an asset. Sometimes when he woke in the middle of the night, his own shouts and cries pulling him from sleep, he still found it hard to believe he was free. Every so often his brain would snap and he’d lose chunks of time, come back to consciousness with Ophelia holding him in an armbar. He didn’t like not trusting his own mind, but he could trust hers at least. For now, that was enough.  
“Are you going to eat that?” Bucky’s voice seemed to snap her out of her day dream and she turned her head ever so slightly from where she was eyeing the other patrons of the small cafe suspiciously. He pointed to the bacon left on her plate with his fork and Ophelia just continued to stare at him. For a moment he thought maybe he’d been wrong in assuming it was okay for him to ask, but then she breathed out heavily, motioning for him to take it. He did, the slivers of meat gone as quickly as his other food.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.” She told him, hands coming up to rub at her eyes with her palms. Bucky blinked.  
“You don’t sleep well any night.” He replied under his breath. Ophelia fixed him with a look.  
“And it’s kept me alive for thirty years.” The man didn’t make any effort to respond, knowing that if she had something to say, she would.  
“I think you should… I think you should contact  _ him _ . Let him know you’re alright.” Bucky’s eyes immediately narrowed and he swallowed his half chewed bacon, jaw setting tightly. He didn’t speak.  
“I’m… Bucky, I’m not as stable as you think I am. And I think you could benefit from getting help, unlike I di-”  
“I’m not leaving.” Ophelia sucked on the inside of her mouth. They’d had this conversation a total of eight times. Each time she brought it up, Bucky had adamantly refused to leave her.  
“You can’t just rely on me. It's hard, but you will learn to trust others too… You need to trust  _ him _ . He knows you better than I do.”  
“But he doesn’t understand like you do.”  
“I think you’d be surprised.” Bucky sat back in his chair, head brought low, the cap he wore obscuring his eyes from her view. Even so she knew the wild, frightened look that likely lay there.  
“I won’t leave you again.” He said, quiet enough that Ophelia almost didn’t hear him. If she was being honest, she’d say that she didn’t want him to leave either. There was something about their mutual history, about the memories they had together that they shared that made her want to cling tightly to him and never let him from her sight. But she knew that wasn’t possible. Unlike her, he had a chance for re-entry into the world. He was just as messed up as she was, but she’d made her decisions, decided to hunt HYDRA. Bucky had simply been following her like a lost puppy, refusing to harm anyone since the day he’d murdered that man in her bathroom in Germany. He didn’t like hurting people, a vast difference to the satisfaction Ophelia gained when she put a bullet into the head of someone who was responsible for HYDRA’s semi-functioning operations. She pursed her lips and finished the coffee in front of her.

“We should go.”

They walked back to the shifty motel in semi silence, Bucky’s arm drawn around her shoulder in a faux display of affection, the occasional words passing through their lips as their heads leant together looking to all the world like a couple just going about their business. It was a useful disguise tactic, people would overlook a couple walking together, not wanting to stare too directly at a seemingly private moment, unlike if they walked apart. There was less chance they’d be stared at this way. Even so, he felt her stiffen under his arm as they neared their temporary residences and he shot a subtle look over his shoulder.  
“You see him?” Her voice was quiet and Bucky nodded.  
“He’s been following us since the cafe.” The man tightened his arm around her neck just a little out of annoyance.  
“You didn’t want to say anything sooner.”  
“It could have been coincidence. Take the left away from the room.” He followed her instruction without pause, turning the corner and moving casually down the street in the opposite direction to their motel.  
“Smile and laugh at something I said.” Ophelia looked at him with an expression that was completely opposite to their mood, a soft smile on her face as if she’d told a joke. Bucky laughed, the grin not quite reaching his eyes and he was struck with a memory, this time not as painful as the last.  
  


__ “Oh come on… Just one dance…!” He’d heard the guy before he saw him, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he turned to his left, arm snaking gently around the poor woman’s shoulder.  
__ “Get lost, Pal.” The woman, a cute blonde with rosy cheeks that he’d seen around this place before seemed utterly relieved and he could feel her lean into him slightly. The guy harassing her glared.  
__ “This your girl, huh?” He sneered and Bucky moved his arm from her shoulder to her waist and he puffed his chest a little.  
__ “Yeah. She is. And she doesn’t want to dance with you, so scram.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to fight the guy, but he would if he needed to. Fortunately, the guys friends seemed to have more sense and they moved away after some minor cussing out. The blonde turned into him and Bucky removed his arm from her, letting it fall back to his side.  
__ “Oh my goodness, thank you!”  
_ “S’not a problem, doll.” He gave her his best smile and a nod, turning back to the bar not in an unfriendly manner, but letting her know she was not obligated to continue speaking to him. She just moved on up next to him however, and Bucky made a face to himself, finally giving her a once over. She  _ **_was_ ** __ pretty, pouty lips and a button nose. He wondered vaguely how he’d never paid her much mind before. He cleared his throat.  
__ “Can I buy you a drink?” The blonde gave him a lopsided smile and nodded, batting her eyelashes, and the man felt any resolve he’d had previously to not abandon Steve that night leave him. He did shoot a cursory glance at his friend though, the smaller man having already pulled his sketchbook out busying himself. He felt bad, but the feeling left him when the blonde wrapped her arms around his bicep and he felt his heart stutter a little.  
_ “I should thank you properly.” She told him coyly and Bucky cocked his head, his own grin returning, and he couldn’t help himself as his arm once again wrapped around her neck.  
_ __ “Oh?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and he didn’t fail to notice the way her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again. Bucky leaned in, his arm around her neck drawer her face closer to his.

 

He blinked as Ophelia smacked him playfully on the chest and threw her head back with a girlish giggle. Bucky caught the hand that had hit him and continued in his grin as she cocked her head, the uncharacteristic body language almost throwing him off as she leaned into him, flirting heavily.  
“Pull me down the alley coming up, act natural.”  
“I am.” He gritted through his smile and unfurled his arm from her shoulders, one hand tugging on her as he drew her down the alley she’d pointed out, Ophelia’s hands finding purchase in the front of his jacket and for a second, he found himself lost in the moment. He certainly wasn’t in the space of mind to have romantic feelings for her but the close contact, the flirting, felt entirely too good. It was nice, to be smiled at, to laughed with someone and Bucky realised then how much he  _ craved  _ physical interaction. Ophelia kept pushing him gently until her expression changed and Bucky registered that he’d been far too focused on the way she had been looking at him to notice the man that had followed them down the alley. Ophelia’s elbow flew back with a crack against their pursuer’s face and Bucky reeled as his companion shoved him away from her as she turned on the other man.

Ophelia had to give it to him, Bucky played along well, but her thoughts never left the man following them and she felt the break as her elbow connected with bone. She pushed Bucky away from the fight, turning from him as the man pressed forward still, blood spurting from his nose and mouth. Ophelia had to give him points for his persistence and she kicked out at him, grating her teeth when he jumped back, pulling out a gun from his pocket and aiming it at her. She only just managed to duck, grabbing his wrist and swinging him face first into the wall, pressing the hand that held the gun high, trying to force it from his fingers. That was when she felt a harsh pressure on her leg and she barely had time to catch herself before she tripped, her attackers leg moving around hers. He aimed the gun again but she kicked out, her long legs knocking the weapon away and she jumped to her feet.  
“Who sent you?” She asked, throwing a punch that knocked him back. The man took their proximity however to grab the collar of her jacket, and using his own momentum, forced her roughly into the wall. She had to admit, he was good.  
“You’ve been causing trouble too long.” His accent was American, but Ophelia already knew better. He smacked her across the jaw, the hit not doing more than annoying the woman who roughly shoved him back, pressing him into the opposite brick wall.  
“Oh have I? My apologies that wasn’t my goal at all.” She deadpanned, kneeing him in the stomach.  
“Who sent you?” She asked again, and the man wheezed in her hold, his body trying to double over, but the hand she held against his chest and shoulder kept him upright as he spluttered.  
“You shouldn’t have killed Himmel. Every agent in Europe knows you now.”  
“I’m surprised they didn’t know me before.” Ophelia moved her hand to his throat, squeezing tightly.  
“They know your face now. _And they’re coming for you_.” That made her pause. Previously she’d been safe in her anonymity, secure in that until she revealed herself, she could hide behind a veil of the unknown. Who was he talking about, ‘they’? Tomas must have… she wasn’t sure. She knew he was the gateway for many of HYDRA’s spies to finding their next job, she knew he was powerful. She gritted her teeth. She evidently hadn’t thought enough about her actions before offing him. Her eyes flickered to where Bucky stood frozen, watching her. He looked as though he was too terrified to move.  
“You really should have thought twice before coming for me.” The man smiled, blood staining his teeth red and he spat at her, flecks of blood covering her face. But she refused to flinch, simply procuring her knife from her coat pocket.  
“Cut one head off-”  
“‘Two more will take its place.’ I know. Again, big knife.” She gutted him then, knife drawing from his middle all the way up his chest. Ophelia watched as the life left his eyes, guilty in the feeling of gratification that settled in her. She let him fall, wiping the knife off on his chest before looking around. Bucky watched her with cautious eyes, finally moving as he stepped in toward her.  
“You killed someone?” He knew she occasionally left him for a day or two, and she promised him it was intelligence gathering and scouting, but he had no doubt she was doing far more than that. Ophelia pursed her lips, holding a hand out to him as she shoved the blade back into its pocket.  
“We need to leave the country.”

Bucky leant against the wall when they’d reached their room, instinctually giving her lookout cover while she had her back to the rest of the open walkway, the door opening with a soft click as she turned the key. He followed her inside, removing his cap when the door was closed behind them. Ophelia moved around the room cautiously, checking and removing any of her safety measures to make sure no one come into their room while they were gone. Bucky didn’t like sleeping as much as Ophelia didn’t, but he at least felt safe knowing she was in the same room as him. A lot of things about having each other made him feel safe. Like how seamlessly she’d jumped into action in the alleyway while he’d frozen at the sight of the other man’s blood. It reminded him all too much of the last time he’d hurt someone, dragging his body forcefully into the bathtub and slipping the blade around his neck, the blood flowing unnaturally fast. Bucky continued to watch as she gathered their belongings, reaching out for his bag when she tossed it to him.  
“Who did you kill?” His words felt a little hollow as he asked, his brain buzzing numbly. Ophelia ran a hand through her hair, stopping to check something in the bathroom.  
“A man named Tomas Himmel. He was important to HYDRA’s functioning operations. He’d help agents disappear, or direct them to what they were to do next. He deserved what he got.” Her voice was cold, and Bucky couldn’t help but recall what the man in the alley had said to her.  
“You have other people looking for you now.” He stated, watching her gather her hair in a ponytail and pull her backpack over her shoulder.  
“Yes. You need to… You need to go.” She was rifling in the bag, finally looking up at him as she pulled something out, stepping closer.  
“Take this, go north.” She shoved a small plastic bag in his hand and he already knew it was a wad of cash.  
“No. I’m not going anywhere without yo-”  
“ _James Barnes_ I am not playing this game with you! There are people who are trying to kill me and they will kill you too.”  
“I can help you!”  
“Like you did in the alley?” Bucky’s arguments fell silent at that, the hurt clear in his eyes and Ophelia _hated_ herself for saying it. But it was true, he wasn’t prepared to fight, and she couldn’t look after them both while being actively hunted. He pulled away from her, his lips pressed into a thin line. He knew she had a point but he didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t know what to do without her.  
“Go north. I’ll find y-”  
“I don’t want you to find me.”

 

Ophelia left him in the hotel room, with the warning that he’d better move soon. She felt entirely too guilty and hated that they’d parted on negative terms. And she worried for him, hoped to god he would be okay. But she had other things to worry about for now. She settled into her seat on the train, thankful for the emptiness in this car. She would go to Belgium, she had a contact there that could give her at least a place to start on who exactly was looking for her. Ophelia tapped on her knee, mind going over the information she already knew about Tomas Himmel and options for who was looking for her now as the train began to move. It was very likely there was a group of HYDRA agents who had teamed up, safety in numbers. The thought made her scrunch her nose. She was strong, fast, and more skilled than most operatives out there, but she’d still have no chance if she was ambushed by a group. She could survive most wounds, but she wasn’t immune to them.

“I found something.” The voice caught her off guard and Ophelia hadn’t even had time to look up at the man before he slid into the seat across from her.  
“What the _fuck_ are you doing here, I told you to leave?!” Ophelia leaned across the table, whispering angrily despite there being no other passengers in the car. Bucky blinked at her slowly, before he put something on the table between them.  
“What is this?” She asked, not looking at it in slight defiance.  
“A lead.” He sat back in his seat, making himself comfortable as Ophelia finally drew the pages toward her. Her eyes scanned it and she bit the inside of her cheek as she read.  
“Where did you get this?”  
“I went back to the alley, looked through the guy’s pockets, found a room key.” Ophelia squinted at him, but looked back to the pages.  
It was a dossier on herself, coded in Russian but her brain quickly unscrambled it, only one thing catching her eye, written messily at the bottom of the page. 

_ Follow Sarkissian. Confirm her status and report back to Skeleton Crew. _

Ophelia sucked at her teeth. The Skeleton Crew. She knew of them, a former SHIELD strike team who went quiet after it went down. She had assumed they were HYDRA, but they hadn’t made any moves post the fall of SHIELD, so they weren’t high up on her hit list. Despite their campy name, they were dangerous. All former military. Ophelia fell back in her seat, closing the file.  
“You still shouldn't be here.” She told Bucky, looking out the window as the buildings began to pass quickly.  
“I’m going to help you.” Ophelia eyed him. She’d appreciate the sentiment if she weren’t more worried about his mental state.  
“You haven’t raised a finger to hurt a fly in a year. I need to know you will have my back. I can’t afford for you to not.” His demeanour changed some and he nodded stiffly.  
“You don’t worry about me.”  
“Are you sure?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed almost meanly, and he leaned forward.  
“I’m sure.” His voice sounded different, distant and cold.  
“HYDRA is still operating, that's something that needs amending.” He told her, and Ophelia nodded.  
“Those are exactly my sentiments.”

Ophelia looked briefly over at where Bucky stood, pretending to read a magazine in one of the train stations many news agencies. She turned back to her coffee, taking another sip. They’d arrived in Brussels with good time, exiting the train separately. Ophelia didn’t doubt that her every move once she got off the train was being watched, especially now that she knew who was after her. The Skeleton Crew were too good to leave anything up to chance, especially her tracking by some agent who she had so easily taken care of. But they didn’t need to know she had an ally. Not yet at least. And if they did already, at least they could get some drop on them. Ophelia caught Bucky’s eye again, giving one nod to him as her signal, finishing off her coffee before standing. She thanked the waitress, leaving a hefty tip on the table. It was early evening in Belgium and the dark haired woman knew she’d need to get to her contact quickly. She didn’t have to look to know Bucky had begun trailing her from a distance, and she waited three blocks after leaving the station to let him catch up with her. Ophelia leant into him easily as his arm came around her neck again and they fell into the familiar routine.

Brussels was lively in the early evening, people walking home from work or groups of young people milling about, waiting to get their night started. Ophelia led Bucky through a maze of the old streets, weaving across roads and down alleys needlessly until finally she slowed down outside a closed barber’s shop. She knocked loudly on the window in a pattern Bucky couldn’t quite discern before she ducked around to the side of the building. Bucky just followed her lead as she knocked on a door to the side of the building in a similar, but entirely new pattern and the door opened just a crack. He didn’t need to have enhanced eyesight to see the moonlight glinting off the barrel of a gun that was peeking through the opening in the doorway.  
“Are you my garbage man?” A male voice asked lowly. Bucky picked the accent as English.  
“ _ Ez a jelszó _ .” Ophelia spoke in response and the door closed. They could hear several manual locks being undone on the other side until the door was pulled open again.  
“You brought a friend… How nice.”  
“He’s good.” The man stepped aside to usher them inside and Bucky took a look around to make sure they weren’t being watched before he followed. He noticed the Englishman hadn’t put the gun away and pointed it toward a door next to a set of stairs that led upward to what he assumed was an apartment. Ophelia continued to follow the man’s direction, waiting for him to unlock the door before taking the stairs down. He waited for Bucky to follow her.  
“Come on, mate, we haven’t got all day.” Bucky glared at him but did as he was asked, joining Ophelia at the bottom as the door above them closed and locked, the man coming down the steps easily. The room lit up as he reached the bottom and they could see now an extensive computer system, screens and monitors lit up, a larger one showing a map tracking something. It looked like a lab of some sort and Bucky took a step closer to his friend who no doubt already was somewhat comfortable and familiar with the place judging by her lack of surprise or reaction.  
“What can I do for you Viper my love, my darling?” The man opened his arms in a grandeur way and Ophelia just cocked her head.  
“Cut it. There are people trying to kill me. I slipped up, made a mistake. I need to know what you know they know.” The man’s smile and arms fell, and he sighed.  
“Straight to the point I see. Alright, lemme have it.” He passed Bucky as he went, the taller man still scrutinising the Englishman.  
“I’m Doubles, by the way.” He introduced himself and Bucky just stared.  
“Jesus, you two are  _ the _ most unfriendly people. It's called customer service…” The man, Doubles, grumbled and Ophelia just gave him a look.  
“He’s called Doubles because he’s betrayed everyone at least once.” She spoke, turning her eyes on Bucky who just frowned. Why would she work with someone who was a known rat? He supposed the entire intelligence community was made up of rats. Ophelia moved forward then, as Doubles reached the other side of a tall counter. The dark haired woman reached into her backpack then, producing another bag that had money stuffed in it, folded neatly.  
“How much?” Doubles didn’t touch the bag as she placed it on the counter in front of him.  
“Sixty grand. Twenty-five in Euro, thirty-five in American dollars.” Bucky wasn’t entirely sure where Ophelia got money from. When he’d asked her about it, she’d told him vaguely something to do with favours. He’d taken that to mean she’d done some work for money. Doubles squinted as if he wanted to refuse but then relented without word, sliding the bag to the side.  
“A man came in. Asked for information on you. Paid in diamonds and gold. I’m talking pure blocks of the stuff.” Ophelia cocked her head, unsurprised that the man sold her out.  
“Didn’t say who he was, or why he wanted the information, but I gave him what I had, which by the way, isn’t much.” Bucky frowned, the other man making his skin crawl. He didn’t like this at all, Doubles was a loose end with no morals.  
“But you know darlin’, despite you and your comrade’s rudeness, I do like you much better. Easy on the eyes too.” Ophelia just looked at him blankly, not buying a word of what he said.  
“If you hear anything else, I’ll make it worth your time. I’m not playing games this time.” Ophelia turned, ready to leave.  
“I feel like you really dug yourself in this time with Himmel, love. Good luck to ya.” Bucky was still facing the shorter man, Ophelia having turned to face him when he saw her eye twitch and she paused. Bucky had picked up on it too, and he gave her a subtle nod as she turned back to Doubles.

“I never mentioned Himmel.”  
“Didn’t ya? I swear you did.”  
“Buck?”  
“No. You didn’t say anything about him.” Doubles looked between them nervously, hesitance clear on his face.  
“Listen… I keep tabs, I know what’s what and when someone like Himmel goes missing it’s bad for business…” Ophelia cocked her head at the man’s explanation. Himmel didn’t work with other operatives outside of HYDRA. She knew this because that’s what had made it so hard for her to hunt him down in the first place. She shot a look back to Bucky who had just continued glaring.  
“Is that right?”  
“Viper, you know I’m just doing what’s best for me… Like I’ve always done…”  
“Selling out to HYDRA is what’s best for you? I thought you’d have realised by now that that’s never good for anyone’s health.” Doubles movements were clocked by both Ophelia and Bucky long before he reached for the gun under the bench. Ophelia ducked to take cover as he fired, Bucky raising his metal arm to block the bullet as it flew toward him, before vaulting the counter and kicking Doubles back, the man flying across the room and into a table of computers behind him. Ophelia rounded on the man quickly, grabbing him by the shirt and bashing him back against the wall.  
“The truth, now.”  
“I don’t have to give you  _ shit _ bitch.” Ophelia clicked her tongue and was about to throw him again when she felt a sharp pain in her side. It didn’t take her long to realise he’d grabbed the knife from her pocket and slashed her and she tossed him across the room, falling back. Bucky followed the man’s path, grabbing him by the throat with his metal hand.  
It was odd. He felt conflicted, the violence coming far too naturally for him to be comfortable with, but the anger at the man was overtaking him quickly and he squeezed hard.  
“You know she was one of them! She’s a hypocrite!” Doubles struggled against Bucky’s hand, and the long haired man just pressed him into the ground harder.  
“We both were.”  
“No, no! In the war! She was on their side! Willingly!” That gave Bucky pause and he faltered. What did he mean she had been on their side willingly?  
“Shut up!” Ophelia growled from across the room, staunching the blood at her side. Bucky glanced at her briefly.  
“What are you saying?!” Bucky released his hold ever so slightly, interest piqued.  
“HYDRA, in the war! She was Zola’s pet project! She was one of them!” Bucky felt his heart stop. Zola? Ophelia had worked for the man that had done this to him?! He released Doubles, his eyes finding Ophelia who looked horrified, her eyes wide.  
“James, it wasn’t like th-”  
“You _chose_ to be  _ HYDRA _ ?!” His voice was hoarse, his heart beating wildly in his chest and he reeled back from both of them, almost tripping on the stairs.  
He’d placed all his trust in a woman who was at least partially responsible for his fate. He could feel the panic overtaking him as Ophelia took a step toward him, her bleeding side forgotten.  
“No, it wasn’t-”  
“Don’t lie to him  _ Viper, _ I’ve seen the reports! Schmidt raised you to be his second in comman-” Before he could finish his sentence Ophelia had moved forward and in one mighty stomp, crushed the man’s throat under her foot, the crunch almost sickening. Bucky winced as the man choked and sputtered, backing further away from her.  
“Don’t come near me. Stay…  _ stay away _ .”  
“James-!”  
“ _ Stay away _ !” 

Ophelia stopped, eyes wide at the venom in his voice, watching as Bucky backed away from her, flying up the stairs and ripping the door from its hinges as he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this story to finished status because i have zero self control hahaha rip
> 
> thank you to my angel Tiff <3 such a blessing <3


	6. Bathtubs and Fishhooks

Part Five

2/2

 

_ December 18 _ _ th _ _ , 2015 _

  
  


Ophelia’s head reeled. She’d lost blood, but not enough to make her as sick as she was currently feeling. Bucky had completely disappeared, but she also hadn’t attempted to find him. He deserved his space and she deserved his anger. She should have told him way back when about her past.  
There had been a time when she had known no better, despite their attempt to brainwash her, she had willingly hunted down Captain America and the Howling Commandos. She had willingly hurt people, had wanted to impress Schmidt so badly she had done awful things. Johann Schmidt had been the first person to treat her as anything more than a tool and she had wanted to do whatever he asked of her and more. But looking back, she was sick. She may have made those decisions but she also had known no other life. HYDRA had raised her and at that time nothing else had mattered.  
Ophelia pressed her hand to her side, feeling the warmth from her blood soaking through her coat. She kept to the shadows, weaving in and out of the alleys and avoiding contact with people as she stumbled her way back to the hotel they’d managed to get into earlier. The man on the front desk had changed and Ophelia noted thankfully that he paid her no mind as she walked quickly to the elevator, his eyes firmly on the crossword in front of him. When the elevator finally came, and she tucked herself inside, pressing the button of her floor and leant heavily against the wall, her breathing becoming laboured the longer she went without stitching herself up. She was relieved the knife she’d brought with her that night hadn’t been laced with poison.

Right as the doors began closing, a hand shot through and Ophelia stood up a little straighter as a woman stepped into the car with her. The woman was tall and blonde and dressed nicely, though not nicely enough to warrant suspicion about why she was staying at a hotel as shitty as the one they were at. But Ophelia couldn’t shake the strange feeling in her gut as the woman gave her a kind smile, before pressing the floor above hers.  
“Evening.” She spoke softly and the dark haired woman raised a brow, adjusting herself so that her bleeding side was more hidden.  
“Mhmn.”  
The doors closed and the woman stood with her hands folded neatly behind her back, staring straight ahead. Ophelia’s eyes covertly trailed over the blonde woman’s form, unable to help herself from studying the stranger. She wore dark jeans and a deep blue sweater not nearly warm enough for the weather outside, but sported no jacket. She also held no purse or bag and Ophelia clicked her tongue silently, turning her eyes back to the elevator panel. Her eyes quickly found the emergency stop but before she could act, the car came to a grinding halt, the machinery around them squeaking loudly and the doors pulling open with a chime.  
Ophelia blinked, but forced herself to step forwards and out of the metal box.  
“Have a nice night!” She heard the woman’s voice again, turning to her just as the doors closed again. Ophelia could feel her heart beating in her chest as she approached her door, the keycard already in her hand. She knew before the door opened that something wasn’t right. She stood in the doorway, staring into the blackness of the room, body unable to move forward. No, something was terribly wrong. She’d made a mistake.  
She’d made many mistakes, her brain reminded her, but nothing she could trace back to. She knew she was being followed and watched but she’d been extra careful when picking the hotel, extra careful to walk in circles and throw anyone who might be following her off. Ophelia breathed heavily and stepped back, immediately walking into something hard and solid, and for a moment she thought it may have been Bucky until something flashed in front of her face. Her hands came up automatically, pulling at the thin rope that was taut around her neck, her head being pulled roughly back into the chest of an unseen attacker as she struggled to get a hold of her situation.  
When had things gone so wrong?  
She found herself being forced forwards, the rope tightening as she fought against it until she found it released and she was pushed roughly on to the ground, stumbling to the dirty red carpet, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ophelia’s head snapped up to see who had attacked her, only to find a large, bulky man with a mask. It was balaclava in style, but looked to be a hard plastic and had been drawn on - a skull’s mouth in white chalk.  
“Well, you waste no time, do you?” She gasped out, blocking the foot that came flying towards her face with her hands. She pushed it away, sending the man off balance and  climbed to her feet, using the wall to steady herself, her mind spinning a little with the loss of blood and momentary loss of oxygen. Ophelia attempted to lunge at the man, throwing a punch but he dodged, sending her fist through the thin plaster of the wall and she groaned.  
“ _ Come on _ !” Her fist broke more wall as she pulled it out, but the man moved forwards, grabbing the back of her neck and forcing her face into the dirtied white surface. The dark haired woman elbowed wildly, catching what felt to be face but her attacker only grunted loudly, pressed her further into the wall, pulling her head back and bashing it forwards again with force that surprised her. Whoever he was, he was  _ strong _ . Ophelia felt panic begin to rise. She kicked her foot out behind her, catching his ankle and ripping it forwards again, but the man didn’t release her as he fell, dragging her to the ground. Ophelia elbowed him again, hitting him squarely in the ribs and she turned, straddling the man and throwing punches at his face. She was so distracted by her rage and the overcompensating for the dizziness she felt, the weakness setting into her weary bones, she didn’t register the sound of the door being pushed open again until something hit her hard and fast in the head, sending her rolling off the man.

The blonde woman from the elevator was helping the masked man to his feet when Ophelia’s vision returned to her.  
“She’s bleeding and exhausted, you should have been finished by now!”  
“Well, I think we underestimated the bitch’s persistence.” Ophelia growled as she pushed onto her knees, arm swung over the edge of the nearby bed, helping her to her feet.  
“I see that…” The blonde woman cocked her head, digging into her pocket and pulling out a gun. Ophelia’s eyes widened, attempting to vault the bed, but the sound of a silenced pistol stung the air and she felt her body drop like a sack of potatoes on the other side of the large double bed. Her hands were at her shoulder in an instant, the second time she’d been shot in the region. She heard the gun cock again, the blonde woman rounding on her side of the bed. Ophelia leaned laboriously against the bedside table, her eyes threatening to black out with the extent of her injuries.  
“Oh come on Scarbo, one gunshot was loud enough, Leighton wanted it quiet… No fuss.” Ophelia forced herself to stand, leaning heavily on the nightstand, her hand shuffling behind her as she gripped the electric lamp by its base, watching as the woman, Scarbo, lowered the gun slightly, looking to the man briefly. She took her chance, grabbing the lamp and swinging it as hard as she could while she leapt forwards, sending the blonde flying across the room and into the masked man, the glass shattering on the side of her face. Ophelia grabbed the gun from where it had fallen at her feet, cocking it and aiming at the pair.

She didn’t hesitate before shooting twice, hitting the masked man once in the head and chest, before directing the barrel slightly lower for the blonde who stumbled backwards, hands in the air. Ophelia’s vision swam and she blinked, trying her best to aim the gun. She fired but it clicked empty in her hands. Ophelia looked down at it as Scarbo chuckled mirthlessly.  
“Out of luck,  _ Viper _ .” The dark haired woman sucked her teeth, tossing the gun to the ground and pulling the already bloody knife from her pocket instead. Before the blonde’s face even registered her actions, Ophelia threw the blade across the room, using the last of her energy and strength as the metal hit home, not only slicing into the woman’s neck, but pulling her back and pinning her to the wall. Ophelia’s legs gave out from beneath her and she fell forwards on the bed, watching as the blonde weakly pulled the knife from her throat, and slid to the ground, a trail of blood following her to the floor. She lay there breathing heavily, eyes refusing to close until she could see the blonde woman’s chest stop rising, a river of blood covering the front of her blue sweater. Ophelia groaned, pushing herself onto her back and stared up at the roof. The ceiling fan sat stationary and the green eyed woman watched her reflection in the metallic blades, the blood seeping from her chest steadily until her vision when dark.   
  
  


_ 1963 _

_ She gasped, the blood from her head injury dripping steadily, her slashed stomach adding to the pool of red on the ground  around her. She had failed, compromised their mission, and now she was going to die. She welcomed the idea of death, knowing it was far more of a mercy than what she would receive when they made it to the extraction point, and then to the base. She groaned, pressing the towel further into her belly, before pulling it away briefly to get a better look. It wasn’t as deep as it could have been, but it was enough that she could bleed out. She looked up to the door upon hearing heavy footsteps. Her partner stepped through, his dark hair pulled back from his face as he knelt stiffly beside her. He said nothing to her as he pulled the towel from her middle to get his own look, grunting before tossing it to the side. It was then she noticed the fist full of items he held in his other hand, and she swallowed thickly as he dropped them on the ground next to her. She shook her head, a hand pressing futilely against his shoulder. _

_ “No. You will be punished for helping me. Just go. Put a bullet in me and go.” Her voice was tired, finally feeling the exhaustion of being awake for several days on end. Her partner just frowned down at her, pulling away from her grasp as his eyes began focusing on his task; threading the fishing line through the loop in the hook he’d acquired. She tried sitting up but a cold metal hand pushed her back to the ground, and she found herself lost, waiting as she stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t flinch when she felt his fingers pinch the skin of her wound together, or when the hook and wire threaded through, or when it happened again and again and again all the way across her stomach. The woman with green eyes gazed vacantly at the man who was pulling her back together, his blue eyes narrowed in his work, but face otherwise void of expression at the grizzly task. _

_ “You shouldn’t be doing this. You should have left.” Her voice was small, words slurred as the fatigue began clouding her mind. His eyes flickered to hers and then back to his work so quick she thought she may have imagined it. She found her consciousness fading as he pulled a knife, cutting the end of the wire, hearing his voice ever so quietly over the heavy beating in her ears. _

_ “I can’t leave you.” _

Ophelia woke up to warm hands pulling on her, pulling on her clothes and she instinctively struggled, trying to swat them away.  
“ _ No _ ! _ Stop _ !” Her mind couldn’t form the words in English, reverting back to her mother tongue as pulling stopped, hands grabbing hers from smacking the hard surface.  
“ _ I need to remove these to help. Lay still. _ ” Even with her eyes closed Ophelia’s mind registered the emotion in the male voice, it was panicked, barely concealed by a layer of false calm and she fought to open her eyes, the dim light of the hotel room proving too much, but she saw flashes of blue and long dark hair.  
“Bucky?” She felt the pull of her shirt and did her best to raise her arms, realising she had been propped up, leaning against something, the headboard or a wall, she wasn’t sure.  
“Don’t move, I have it.” He replied to her in English, and Ophelia couldn’t help the relief that filtered through her. She heard the shirt ripping but didn’t have the heart to speak again until she felt his fingers fumbling with the clips on the bra she wore.  
“You have to do more than save my life to get me naked, Barnes.” Her voice was slurred, but Bucky couldn’t help the flick of his lips upwards.  
“Don’t get too excited, I haven’t saved you yet.” The bra came undone and she groaned at the release of the pressure around her ribcage, head falling back a little. A hand skimmed over her shoulder, then down to her side and she squirmed away from it a small amount until it left her torso and landed on her forehead and something dense and vaguely fluffy pressed into her shoulder.  
  
“You’re sweating like crazy and your heart is all over the place. I think you’re in shock.” His voice was low, as if the announcement would startle her more, but Ophelia just groaned again, leaning forwards, finding herself caught on something solid from the front.  
“I need to get you in the bath.” Ophelia had already stopped listening when she felt the surface under her shift, and then arms coming under hers, helping her to stand. Bucky supported her as she wobbled, before finally beginning to move her slowly toward the bathroom. She wasn’t walking so much as stumbling with assistance and he let her put most of her weight on him. He leaned her gently against the wall as he flicked the light on, before shuffling with her toward the shower/tub hybrid. He held her tightly to him as he leaned to turn the taps on, keeping the water hot, but not boiling. A spike too high in temperature wouldn’t help, he just needed to get her warm and stable.  
“Come on, step up int-” Bucky stopped speaking, realising she’d all but passed out and he swore under his breath, bending down to lift her legs with his other arm. He held her bridal style as he stepped into the tub, letting her legs down again as he moved to sit down against the back of the tub, Ophelia settling between his legs as her head lulled back against his shoulder. The warm water quickly soaked them both and he pressed her head forward so she wouldn’t choke, holding her gently in place. She coughed, speaking unintelligibly as she seemed to come to and Bucky gently drew a hand across her forehead, pulling the stray hair from her face, smoothing them back as he shushed her. He could feel his own heart beating wildly in his chest, the panic not totally having left him yet.  
  
The moment he’d entered the hotel he knew something had been wrong, he couldn’t pick it out, but there was death in the air and he’d taken the stairs, foregoing the elevator and allowing his legs to carrying him quickly up to the floor. Originally, he had returned to find her, apologise for leaving, and ask her about her side of events. He’d reasoned with himself that she had looked after him, helped him, fed him and housed him. He owed her at least a conversation. But instead,  he’d found the door ajar, and the room in shambles. There were two dead bodies sitting against the far wall, one dead from bullets, the other with a still leaking neck wound. Ophelia had been lying face up on the bed, her shoulder and side bleeding so much that Bucky had thought she was dead until he found her heartbeat, slow and faint. It had taken everything in him not to completely lose it and he’d set about taking care of her, stemming the bleeding as best he could, and removing any constraints.

“You know, I was content to die here like this.” Her voice startled him from his thoughts and he placed his flesh hand to the side of her neck, feeling her pulse beating a little stronger than it had been before. He moved the towel he’d pressed into her shoulder, glad to see it had stopped bleeding for now. He’d still need to pull the bullet out later when she was stronger.  
“Sorry to ruin your plans.” Bucky replied with a slight chuckle and he moved back, feeling her head rest back against his shoulder again, allowing him to see her face, the pained expression from earlier replaced with something far more relaxed, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the shock or his response. The water was steadily washing away the dried blood, leaving them sitting in a continuously draining pool of red water.  
“I thought you’d left.” Ophelia’s voice was quiet, and Bucky pursed his lips.  
“So did I.”  
“Then why’d you come back? Why save me? I helped them make you what you are.” Her voice was tinted with self hatred and disgust, an emotion he knew all too well and he breathed steadily, blowing air out his nostrils as he considered his answer.

“I couldn’t leave you.”

When Ophelia’s temperature and heartbeat had stabilized enough for Bucky to be happy, he’d carried her from the bath, wrapping her up in a fresh towel to cover her chest while inspected her shoulder.  
“Just pull it out.” Her voice was stronger now, more conviction behind it and Bucky gave her a sympathetic look.  
“It’ll hurt.”  
“Just do it.” He gave her a dubious glance, but pushed the sleeve of his still soaked shirt up. He watched as her jaw tensed and her gaze went distant and he moved his metal hand to her wound, breathing in before shoving his index finger and thumb into the bloody cavity. Ophelia groaned loudly through her teeth but stayed stock still as he pressed deeper, pushing the wound a little wider. He felt his finger ‘tink’ against something and fished around as gently as he could until he got a firm hold of the object, pulling it from her body as she released a small cry. Immediately he brought the towel up to press into the freshly bleeding puncture, flicking the metal across the room.  
“How long does it usually take you to heal from bullets?” He asked after a moment, making sure the blood was clotting as it should. Ophelia sighed.  
“I don’t know. Last time I got shot was you, in the forest.”  
“You haven’t been shot once since then?”  
“How bad at my job do you think I am?” Ophelia bristled at the disbelief in his voice and Bucky relented.  
“What about stabbing?”  
“That I have more experience with. A day?” Bucky nodded. Her side was already looking much better thanks to her enhanced healing, but the loss of blood would still have its effects, or she wouldn’t have been ambushed in the first place. He cursed himself for leaving her at Doubles. He told her he’d have her back, assured her he’d be with her, and he hadn’t.  
“Stop thinking so loud, I’m trying to rest.” Bucky realised he was glaring down at her, her eyes closed and he stood from the bed, looking at the bodies against the nearby wall.  
“We need to move as soon as you wake up.” He told her, knowing she already knew this. Ophelia just made a sound of approval and Bucky breathed out heavily. He moved to one of her backpacks, still stacked by the wall, and took out one of the guns she kept, loading it before taking a seat at the foot of the bed, eyes trained on the door.   
  


They left the hotel before sunrise, sneaking out the window. They had to leave the country before the bodies were found. They’d moved briskly through the city barely waking up around them , the streetlights still on. The train station was also quiet, but still active, people moving about their business and Ophelia was glad she could at least walk straight. Her shoulder was killing her, her side less so, but she knew it would dull as the hours went on. She scanned the electronic boards high above her, reading the different train times and destinations, spotting two that left within the next ten minutes. She turned to Bucky, who was standing close behind her, having hardly left her side since she’d woken up.

“Bucharest or Rome?” Bucky stepped even closer, eyes scanning the board from under the cap that was low on his head.  
“Bucharest. I speak Romanian, I don’t really know Italian.”  
“I know Italian.” Bucky looked down at her, a small smile playing at his lips and he gently slung an arm around her shoulder again.  
“Lady’s choice then.” He surprised even himself with how easily the body language and flirting came. It felt like he was in the body of someone else for a moment, but Ophelia just raised a brow, moving forward to the ticket booth. Bucky walked with her, but hung back just slightly as she reached the counter, keeping an eye out around them while her back was turned.  
“How may I help you ma’am?” The lady behind the booth smiled kindly, far too chipper for the time of morning and Ophelia feigned happiness too.  
“My husband and I have decided to take an impromptu trip to Romania for our anniversary!” She announced, voice light and airy. The woman behind the counter seemed to grin even brighter.  
“Oh, that’s so sweet! Congratulations! Shall I book you on the 4:10am?” Ophelia nodded, and Bucky gave up on his scrutiny of the place, far too empty to be suspicious and walked to stand behind her.  
“That would be wonderful!” His ‘wife’ leaned into him a little as if to remind him of their show and he once again put his arm around her shoulder gently, avoiding leaning against her wound. She exchanged money for tickets with the lady, conversing lightly about the weather expectations in Bucharest until the lady suddenly frowned.  
“Did you forget your rings?” Ophelia cocked her head before she realised she’d referred to Bucky has her husband.  
“We sold them, to fund the trip. We don’t need jewellery to represent what we have, do we doll?” His voice cut off any reply she could have formulated and Ophelia looked at him, almost surprised and the clerk put a hand over her heart.  
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! I’m going to bump you up to first class! Congratulations on your anniversary, Sir and Madame. And have a wonderful trip!” She printed their tickets, passing them across the counter as Ophelia accepted them.  
“I hope I find what you two have one day!” She added and the pair both smiled fakely at her before turning, making for the terminal.  
“God I hope she  _ doesn’t _ .” Bucky spoke quietly in response, making Ophelia chuckle, shaking her head.

By the time they had their tickets checked and  made it through the terminal, the train was calling for its last arrivals and they boarded quickly, making their way into first class. Ophelia would have preferred they hadn’t been bumped up, but then again, the food was better in first class, and they may be afforded more privacy. How busy was first class aboard a 4am train to Romania?  
They had their pick of seats, the cab mostly empty save for a business man with a thick beard, the attendant and a man dressed in casual clothes, reading a book. Ophelia eyed them constantly as Bucky put their bags in the overhead hanger, keeping the one with Ophelia’ weapons in it at her feet, within arm’s reach. He still had one of her guns shoved in his coat pocket.  
"Looking good?”  
“There’s a man with a briefcase and a man with a bag next to him, both look fine but I’m not betting on anything.” They spoke almost inaudibly to one another, smiling as the attendant came to them.  
“Can I offer you any beverages?”  
“No thank you.” Ophelia responded for them both, not trusting anything she herself didn't buy or make. Bucky shot the man a weak smile, eyes turning out the window as the train began to move. The attendant bowed a little and moved away, and Ophelia finally stopped eyeing the other passengers, now firm in her distrust of them.  
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this train ride?” Bucky asked suddenly, face turning back to her and Ophelia shrugged.  
“Probably because the last three remaining members of the Skeleton Crew are in the carriage with us?” Bucky’s jaw stiffened, she could see the muscle tightened and his hand move to his pocket.  
“That’s probably it, yeah.”  
“They won’t strike until we’re out of the city. Possibly not until we’re in Romania. Stay alert.”

The first several hours they passed playing i-spy or listening to each other speak about weird memories they’d regained.  
“How did you get back on your feet after I…” Bucky trailed off, not knowing how to describe the encounter. Ophelia’s face turned somewhat soft and she smiled.  
“I was saved by a passerby, his name was Alexei. Former Russian special forces. He stitched me up in the carpark of a corner store and took me to St Petersburg. He had been going there to die. But he said when he found me, he found purpose again.” Bucky listened carefully, his eyebrows knitting together as his brain worked overtime.  
“He looked after me for seven years, taught me to live again.”  
“What happened to him?” Ophelia felt her mouth run dry at the memory and cleared her throat.  
“The Winter Soldier killed him.” Bucky swallowed and looked out the window, his whole body feeling numb. Ophelia often spoke as if he and the Soldier were different people, but he didn’t feel like they were when he could remember the awful things he’d done.  
“I’m sorry. I-”  
“It wasn’t you, James.” She wasn’t looking at him either, and her voice had turned a little colder.  
“Alexei he… He took me away from that life for a long time. He believed I could be more than a murderer. He’s the reason I do everything I do.” Bucky drew his eyes back toward her.  
“You are more than what they made you.” His voice was quieter and Ophelia’s green eyes fell into his.  
“So are you.” They stared at one another for a moment, before movement behind him caught Ophelia’s gaze. She watched the man with the book as he made his way to the bathroom, the door closing and locking behind him and continued watching as five minutes later the business man also stood, folding his paper and placing it on the table. He walked briskly down the walkway, passing them without sparing a glance as he left the compartment, the electronic door closing behind him.  
“Do you see the attendant behind me?” Ophelia spoke, her heartbeat spiking a little as Bucky’s eyes raised to look behind her, shaking his head.  
“Something isn’t right.” The dark haired woman was standing before Bucky could respond, and she looked through the porthole window to the door that separated their compartments.  
“Gun.” She didn’t look at him, only held out a hand as Bucky delved into her bag, pulling out the parts of her M16, snapping the ammo cartridge into place and handing it to her obediently. Ophelia’s hand held it expertly as she turned to move down the car. Bucky kept his eyes on the door the man had exited, handgun loaded and at the ready. The dark haired woman moved quietly, and slowly through the carriage toward the still occupied bathroom.  
Her eyes caught sight of something as she moved and she did a double take.  
“Buck…” Bucky spun to her looking down at what had caught her sight as she backed up, spotting the briefcase right as it exploded, sending them flying back and filling the cab with smoke.

Ophelia couldn’t help the whimper that left her mouth, her injured shoulder having been knocked in the blast, but before she could even get to her feet the sound of doors opening found her ears as a gun was pressed to the side of her head.

“Not so fast.” The voice was deep, American, and she raised her hands. Bucky had disappeared from her line of sight, the thick smoke refusing to let anyone see past a meter in front of them. That would come in handy for sure. She turned her head ever so slightly to see the assailant and was met with the face of the bearded businessman, jacket now shed. He cocked the gun.  
“I have had warmer introductions…” Ophelia scrunched her nose and the man narrowed his eyes, but had the decency to look somewhat amused. She could see now, under his beard his face was marred by horrible deep red scarring.  
“Well, I suppose not everyone you meet wants you dead as much as I do.” Ophelia shrugged and the amusement fell off his face, leaving a cold expression.  
“Saxon, where's the other one?” His eyes never left hers, but he called into the smoke, receiving nothing in reply.  
“Oh for fucks sake, Saxon?” He called the last word louder, turning to look and Ophelia took her moment, hands reaching up, grabbing the gun by its barrel, yanking it past her head. Her attacker immediately moved into action but he was too slow, Ophelia’s leg sweeping out and tripping him to the floor fluidly. She threw the gun to the ground and turned to the man but was met only with a kick to the face and she fell back again, into one of the seats. She moved to stand but a foot slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her as a thick fist connected with her jaw.  
“Stop!” _Punch_.  
“Fighting!” _Punch_.  
“Back!” _Punch_.  
Ophelia was sure her nose had broken, she could feel warm liquid seeping from her nose and wondered vaguely how she had any blood left. She looked up in a daze, seeing the man standing over her loading a gun, a different one this time. His foot was still pressed solidly into her chest and she blinked, trying to get her body to cooperate with what her brain was screaming at her to do. With a familiar click, the man grinned, pointing the gun once more at her head.  
“You really shouldn’t have killed Himmel.” He told her and Ophelia shrugged once again.  
“Killing HYDRA agents is my whole schtick. I’d be pretty bad at it if I left him alive.” The foot in her front pressed down sharply, making it harder for her to breathe.  
“You made a lot of people take notice with that one. I’m making millions off this contract.” Ophelia raised her brow.  
“Hope they didn’t pay you in advance.” His mouth opened to respond, when light glinted off something behind him and he was suddenly ripped backwards, a loud crack sounding against the opposite wall.  
“I was starting to worry about you.” She groaned, pushing out of her seat, but keeping her head low. Bucky reappeared, looking from the man embedded in the cracked glass to her.  
“You alright?”  
“No. You?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“Wonderful. There's at least two more.” Right as she finished speaking, the room around them went completely dark, only the faint ceiling lights that hadn’t been blown flickering to life as they passed into a tunnel. Rapid gunfire sounded from the other side of the carriage and the pair broke apart. The light from the muzzle flash was darkened by the smoke but gave them a clear line of sight to their attacker. Bucky had dived behind the nearest seat, grabbing the small coffee table and ripping it from the floor. Ophelia watched and followed his lead, catching the bag of weapons she’d brought with her as Bucky tossed it across the aisle. In return she threw him the rifle she’d dropped earlier.

Bucky fired back in the general direction of the bullets, the smoke seemingly thicker now that they were in the dark. It took the dark haired woman less than seconds to locate her bracer, shoving it on her wrist. Bucky nodded once in her direction before he kicked the table down the centre walkway, the force sending it flying as more gunshots fired into the walls and chairs around them. Ophelia ran when there was a thud and a subsequent grunt of pain. She couldn’t see far in front of her but quickly the casually dressed man came into view through the fog and she flew over the upended table, kicking him back into the wall with a dull smack. His gun clattered to the ground loudly as the door behind them opened up, Bucky turning immediately to aim at the newcomer.

Ophelia turned back to the target in front of her, a short stocky man with messy blonde hair and shoulders wide enough she was sure he’d have to turn side-on to move through any of the train doors. He’d stayed standing and had raised his fists in a defensive stance and the dark haired woman cracked her neck. He threw the first punch which she dodged, ducking under him and avoiding his second hit. With speed someone of his size shouldn’t possess, he moved again, this time catching her face in an uppercut and Ophelia stumbled back.  
“Could everyone please leave my  _ goddamned _ nose alone?!” She muttered, wiping her mouth and lunging, grabbing the man by the back of the head and bringing his head to her knee. The crack she not only felt but heard satisfied her immensely, but was again disappointed when he didn’t crumple, simply staggering back against the wall again. Ophelia swiftly reached for him again, kicking out at his side and rolling when he caught her foot, jerking from his grip as she then dodged his fists again, moving back as he gained ground. She could hear Bucky’s fight getting closer as she jumped back down the walkway, but didn’t dare look for him as she narrowly avoided a roundhouse to the side of her head.  
“Duck!” Ophelia’s body reacted before her mind even could, and she fell to the ground frontwards, a man in a uniform flying haphazardly over her head and crashing into the stocky man she’d been fighting. A grip on the back of her shirt lifted her to stand and she gave her companion a quick nod before her eyes widened.  
“Move!” Ophelia had grabbed the front of Bucky’s coat, hauling him to the side as the man who had been knocked into the window fired off a round. Ophelia ducked but felt the painful sting in her side. She looked down, seeing the nearly-healed slash wound reopened and bleeding again. She gritted her teeth, kicking out wildly at the man who jumped back from her. The green eyed woman kept moving forwards, grabbing the barrel of the gun he held as he raised it again, hand closing around it tightly and she struggled, arm shaking as the man looked up from the weapon to look at her face for a moment. She could see the disbelief as her hand shook and the metal finally crumpled under her grip. Ophelia threw the gun away with a growl, and grabbed the man by the throat. His mind seemed to come back to him from the shock of her display and he extended his hands, clawing at hers.

Bucky stuck his leg out, tripping the shorter man as he made to move forwards, before reaching out and grabbing the other one by the collar, flipping him to the ground also. He watched Ophelia crush the gun’s barrel in her hand and would have had something smart to say if a sharp stab in his leg didn't distract him. He looked down to find a knife in his calf and before he could react he was blocking an onslaught of attacks from the stocky blonde, driving him backwards down the car and away from his partner. The smoke was thick and distracting as he dodged and jumped from the man’s attack, becoming all the harder when the other man joined him. He was cornered on both sides and his body moved almost automatically.

Arms up, protect the head, step back dodge the kick, duck down and roll, arms up again. He was tiring quickly and snarled as he ripped the knife from his leg, swiping wildly at the taller of his attackers. He hit home, but only just, the man’s chest tearing open and he reached out, once again grabbing him and holding him in place as a shield while his friend threw another hit.  
“Saxon you fucking moron!” He screamed when the shorter man smacked him, and Bucky couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips, throwing the man into him and kicking them both back, hitting the ground roughly. Blinding light suddenly filled the carriage as the train pulled out of the tunnel, and Bucky couldn’t help but cover his eyes a moment.

Ophelia squinted when the sunlight hit her, throwing the man back into the already cracking window as she adjusted. The smoke was still heavy in the air, but had thinned out some, allowing the sunlight to filter in brighter than it had before. She pulled the knife from her pocket and lunged, stabbing down into the chair she’d thrown the man into but he moved in the last second, jumping forward and around her. Ophelia pulled the knife and groaned when the middle of her back was kicked in, falling forwards, the chair tipping on its side. She turned, anticipating the next attack by grabbing the couch and jutting it out, the man grabbing at it and ripping it from her hands, throwing it to the side roughly. Ophelia kicked but he caught her foot, throwing it to the side as he moved on top of her, fists thrown wildly as she attempted to block them.

Bucky looked around the carriage, the smoke obscuring most of his view of Ophelia but he turned his gaze back on the two in front of him, both staggering to their feet. They’d need to end this soon. He kicked fiercely, the stocky blonde man catching the bulk of it as he was knocked sideward, crashing into the wall with a crack. Bucky moved forwards, grabbing the other man by the throat with his left arm, squeezing tightly as the man’s feet left the ground. With force he was definitely ashamed to use, Bucky kept his hand around the man’s neck as he smashed him back into the glass, the window cracking behind him. He ploughed the man back and forth five or six times before the screen finally broke open, a chill gust entering the cabin as his hand finally released its grip, watching him fly from the train like a plastic bag caught in the wind. He turned back to the stocky blonde who was watching him with wide eyes, before settling on his metal hand, still mostly covered by his jacket sleeve. The man raced away from him, trying to make a dive for the backpack he’d left at his seat initially, but Bucky caught him by the foot, swinging him around and smashing him into one of the remaining tables.

Ophelia bucked her hips, the man flying headfirst into the wall under the window and rolling off to her side. With renewed anger and energy, she swung her legs around his waist, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head back, constricting his windpipe as much as she could with her injured shoulder. His hands fought at her arms, but she didn’t budge, pressing tighter. She felt his body squirm on top of hers as Bucky stepped from the smoke, grabbing at the rifle on the ground that he’d dropped earlier. He raised a brow in question and Ophelia just nodded, bracing herself as the long haired man fired twice into her captive. With a sigh of relief she released the man, throwing him off her as she got to her feet. Bucky turned back to where he’d left the stocky blonde, finding him gone. The sound of opening doors didn’t escape them and the pair took off, Bucky tossing Ophelia the gun in his hands as he tore through the sliding doors with his metal arm in pursuit.  
People screamed as they passed, the gun not going unnoticed and the dark haired woman wondered where the attacker thought he could escape to on a  _ moving _ train. Bucky broke through another door and Ophelia clocked the empty carriage through the window.  
“Down!” She called, watching as Bucky dropped. She herself stopped dead still, raising her gun and firing.

Their target stumbled, falling slightly onto the seats next to him, but kept moving, albeit slower. Bucky jumped back to his feet, seeing the blood seeping steadily from the man’s thigh. He passed into the last car before them, jumping the distance that separated the two and the door closing shut behind him. Unlike the other carriages, the last one was for cargo and luggage, a coupler separating them. Ophelia shot Bucky a look as the back door opened, and they were hit with the cold winter air. He looked nervous and she pursed her lips.  
“I don’t have a good history with trains.” He said, squinting as his eyes followed the ladder that led to the roof of the car.  
“I’ve heard. You take the roof, ambush him.” She spoke with authority and moved for the door when an explosion detonated through the cart in front of them. Ophelia felt her body thrown violently outwards and she cursed, feeling the pain erupt in her shoulder as something caught her hand, pulling on her injured limb.  
“I’ve got you!” Bucky’s face was desperate, panicked, and the fear she could see behind his eyes made her incredibly nervous as she swung out her other arm, grabbing his metal limb with a vice-like grip. Bucky’s mind was filling with images he was fighting to suppress as he pulled Ophelia from the side of the train back to the platform, and he felt sick, any calm or cool he had previously possessed gone as images of his own death played in his mind. The way Steve had looked so scared as he reached for him, Bucky’s own fears overtaking him when the blown out side of the train broke, sending him plummeting toward the ice below. Ophelia gripped his shoulders as he brought her back to solid ground and her eyes searched his face, seeing the familiar look in them as his brain struggled to keep up with all the triggers. Her arm was killing her, her slash wound was bleeding from the bullet that had grazed it, and she was fairly certain her body was going to give out if she took one more bad hit, but the man in front of her right now couldn’t do more. He shook in her arms and Ophelia pushed him back, away from the fight. _Her_ fight.  
“Stay here.”  
“No I’m fi-.”  
“James stay  _ here _ . You’re done. You’re fine. This is mine.” Something in her voice made him stop and he fell back against the outside wall of the train as she took the gun he’d stopped from falling when the blast hit and observed as she jumped the coupling, back pressing to the remaining part of the blown out wall. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and it doubled when she moved inside the compartment, out of his sight.

Ophelia’s whole body felt like it was on fire but she pressed on, hiding around the racks of luggage. She could hear the stocky man breathing heavily. The Crew must have hidden more weapons back here. She was nearly certain the thing that had exploded had been a grenade launcher, of all things. With a deep breath in her lungs, Ophelia moved forwards, peeking her head around to catch a glimpse of her target, leaning heavily against a wall, and checking his leg. His skin was pale and but blotchy and the large weapon lay against the wall next to him. She whipped out in front of him, gun at the ready. His head snapped up, hands moving for the gun but stopping as she shook her head.  
“Don’t even  _ think _ about it.”  
“Cut one head off, tw-”  
“ _Shut up_.”  
  
The gunshot that went off made Bucky jump and he pulled himself back together long enough for his brain to register when Ophelia emerged from the torn apart doorway, her body looking like it was a struggle for her to move it. She held out a shaky hand and he took it, jumping across the gap to her cart. They shared a look as he peeked back inside the carriage, seeing the stocky blonde man lying dead against the back wall. Ophelia aimed her gun at the coupling, firing off two rounds and kicking them apart. She sighed, groaning as she moved to sit on the platform, her hand pressed into her bleeding side. Bucky joined her, his arm moving around her shoulder and holding her tightly as she leaned heavily onto him, eyes flickering closed. Their legs dangled over the edge, cold wind hitting their cheeks as they began slowing down and watched the train in front of them disappear into the distance.

__

_ April 27 _ _ th _ _ , 2016 _   
  


“He’s going to come, you know?” Bucky shot Ophelia a tight, annoyed look.  
“I can’t be here. He’ll attack me on sight.”  
“You don’t know that.”  
“Yes. I do.” Her voice was strained as she finished shoving her things into her bag.  
“I’m going to leave, find out what’s going on. This isn’t a coincidence.”  
“If you leave and he takes me in, I’ll have no alibi.” Bucky hated the pleading tone in his voice and Ophelia finally turned to him.  
“Do you  _ really _ think he’s going to believe me, the woman who attempted to murder him for five years straight, about  _ anything _ ?!” Bucky breathed out his nose, sucking in his cheeks a little.  
“The best thing I can do for you is to find out who’s framed you, bring them in.” She finished zipping up her bag and turned around, finding the man standing closely behind her.  
“Bucky…”  
“I don’t want you to go. I need you.”  
“What you need is to go calmly. Captain-  _ Steve _ cares about you. He wants what’s best for you, us fighting our way out of this one won’t end well. We  _ can’t _ run forever.” She placed her hands on either side of his arms and ran them up and down a little. Bucky’s forehead was knitted together tightly.  
“I don’t want to see him yet. I’m not- I’m not the Bucky he knew…”  
“No. You’re not. But he’s also not the Steve you remember. I’m not the Ophelia who was a Nazi. We’ve all changed.” She gave him a soft smile, stepping around him toward the door.  
“If you run, you run. But I can guarantee you, that man would move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay.” Bucky’s brow furrowed further.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I gave him the heads up on our location before the authorities got it.”  
“You did  _ what _ ?!” He stepped toward her, anger clear on his face and voice but Ophelia wasn’t fazed.  
“I made him promise me you would be alright. He told me it was his number one priority.”  
“I cannot believe you!” Bucky raised his voice, the stress evident in it but the dark haired woman could only shrug sadly.  
“It's for the best, Bucky.” He shook his head, turning away from her.  
“I’m going to make sure your name is cleared. You’ve been through too much for us to just accept this and keep running. You’ll never be free.”  
“I’m never going to be free anyway.”  Ophelia opened the door with a click and looked at him sadly, one last time.  
“Yes. You will.” Bucky scrunched his nose up, eyes darting about before finally landing on her, desperation in his gaze.  
“Please, don’t leave.”  
“Tell Steve I’m sorry for trying to murder him.”  
“Please, Ophelia…” his voice was quiet and weak. She just smiled sadly.  
“I’ll find you again.”   
  


And then the door shut, and Bucky was left standing in the middle of the room alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boop finished!!
> 
> thank you for all your hard workTiff!!!! <3
> 
> Thank you for reading and thank you for any kudos and love ya'll send <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my angel of an editor, Tiff  
> Your feedback and work is eternally appreciated <3
> 
> Thank you also to Erin <3


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